


Hydrophobia

by BlueEyedArcher



Category: Dishonored (Video Games), Thief (Video Game 2014), Thief (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Police, Attempted Murder, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Sexual Situations, Blood and Injury, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fire, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Medical Examination, Mentioned Corvo/Jessamine, Multi, Near Death Experiences, Poisoning, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sex Jokes, The Primal - Freeform, cops and robbers AU, feelings are complicated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2020-12-09 17:29:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 77,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20998625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyedArcher/pseuds/BlueEyedArcher
Summary: Garrett knows without a doubt that he should be wary of the sorts of bonds he makes with other people, especially when a certain tall, dark, and handsome police officer works his way into his life. Despite that, he carries on, playing the niceties needed to not arouse suspicion while still carrying out his job as the best Thief in the City. But quick hands and cloaks of shadow aren't enough when conflict comes to his peaceful little life and the man who holds his heart in handcuffs comes to his door, threatening to tear it all down.(Simply put, Garrett is crushing on Officer Corvo Attano while also trying to navigate his tricky lifestyle around their maybe relationship on top of remembering what happened to him the night he went missing and wound up hospitalized with a strange wound and a newly discolored eye.)





	1. Drowning

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a side idea that came to me all of a sudden while i was working on my other fic for the fandom, Catnip. 
> 
> I adore modern AU's with this pairing and a thought occurred that we need more Cop Corvo and Thief Garrett because honestly, that's the best shit. I hope you enjoy it. I'm still getting the hang on these characters so i hope it is satisfying.

_ A flash of light. _

_ A scream in the darkness. _

_ The cold swell that curled around him, suffocating him. Lapping at his face and choking down his throat to fill his lungs. The icy grip that pulled him, tugging heavy limbs deeper into their depths. The distance sound of sirens was muffled but so close, blaring in his ears. The flashing of lights, flickering between tones of red and shadowy turquoise distorted by the greenish waters that descended him into darkness.. _

_ He struck out at the world, swatting, pawing and fighting against anything and everything, giving jerky kicks and thrashing against the chilled grip of death’s icy clutches. The searing pain that jolted through him, lancing through his skull like a hot iron, forcing his lips apart in a silent scream. Bubbles rising up. Hands grasping at anything they could reach, curling numbly around the slatted metal that bit into his flesh. A cage that barred him from the surface. From the blessing of fresh air that taunted him only inches away. His lungs burning, gasping to refill but stuttering, stopping him in his futile attempts. _

_ The acrid burning of fear was the only glimmer of warmth that dared enter his body. The strength to hold to the grates, clutching at what little hopes he could muster, had faded. His fingers loosening their grip, slipping away. A cold slender tendril lurched up from the depths, wrapping around his fragile waist and pulled with ease. Pulled him into the folds of the abyss with a silent welcoming call as darkness blotted out the edges of his vision. _

_ Catching the fleeting few bubbles that remained slowly rising up from his blue tinged lips. Their glassy orbs like crystals, catching the fractal warning red hues that wailed above. Far out of his reach. _

* * *

He woke up in a cold sweat, skin sticky to the sheets as they tangled around his legs, preventing any further kicking or thrashing in his sleep. Ankles wound tightly together where the fabric caught on the foot board, curled around the wooden beams and draped half off the mattress. His fingers trembling as they raised to cover his face, the ache dwelling in the back of his right eye sharpened as he stared wearily up at the ceiling. The comforting ticking of the clock stirred his senses to acute awareness as he honed in on the sound. His eyes peeled away from the spackled ceiling, the drip texture that distorted shadows in the grey light of early morning. 

They fell on the ticking clock, despite the digital display that declared the time, **6:07**, his eyes still attempted to make out the hands on the glossy face of the Big Ben replica clock piece. A gift from Basso while he was on a trip for over seas work, knowing Garrett’s odd fascination with old clock towers in history. Something about that continuous clicking, ticking, tocking that settled his flighty nerves and smoothed over the frays stretched taut in panic.

Garrett’s fingers reached out, one hand posting him upright onto his side as he sat up, his other searching the scant shadows of his room for his blanket, finding it too had gone off the bed along with one of his pillows. The other, which he had been using, was half shoved between the head board and the mattress, wedged in a way that took some effort for Garrett to retrieve it and return his bed to some semblance of order, half tempted to plop his head back into the pillows with a sigh. It was too early to wake up yet. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose with an even stronger exhale, fumbling through the two hours of sleep he managed to get tonight. The night before was barely an hour before he was back on his feet, wired and flighty like a spooked fox hearing the baying of hounds in the distance. He paced his apartment for hours until his feet ached and the sun had risen far beyond the horizon and greeted the mid morning traffic with the scorching heat climbing higher in the afternoon temperatures. 

Today would be no different it seems. He could feel it in his bones. The way they ached, his skin itching against the sheets. His fingers clawing and picking at frays and his own sleep shirt. Finally, with a heavier sigh than he intended, he kicked his legs over the side, his grey sweatpants hanging loosely on his hips as barefeet met the cool wood floor. It was still too early for most folks to be up and about, offering him a slim hour to run off the abundance of energy that brimmed throughout his body. 

The ache in his skull throbbed faintly, fading with whatever phantom tendrils lingered from his dream- _ nightmare more like. _He cursed under his breath, stalked stiffly towards the small grey bathroom door fixed in the wall, slipping inside where he was greeted with a thicker darkness before his fingers fumbled for the familiar click of the light switch. 

He squinted, blinking quickly as the bright lights over the sink buzzed on, illuminating the shadows under his eyes from sleeplessness. His right eye closed a fraction longer than the other, fighting off the sharp pin pricks of pain that bolted through his pupils at the unceremonious introduction. He grumbled quietly to himself as he opened his right eye. The deep scars that gauged the skin beneath that resembled cracks in an unkempt sidewalk, shattered and expanded over time with the wedging presence of the elements battering it relentlessly. All spiderwebbed around the center point, where an odd cloudy blue sheen spread from over the iris. An unearthly sort of color that appeared to glow in its ethereal blue, ghostly and disturbing to say the least. Not at all like its soft hazelnut brown neighbor.

His fingers carefully probed the area, inspecting the long white lines that had, in recent months, shifted from the pinkish hue of healing flesh into the older pale etchings streaking through his skin. His thumb outlined them thoughtfully, feeling for any signs of tenderness that sometimes made itself known when the ache was particularly sharp and would hound him all day. He was reluctant to treat it with any kind of inhibitor, knowing that signs of pain were to be made wary of, not to smother with chemical crutches, no matter how tempting the thought was.

He was keenly aware of the effects as well, had spent enough time in doctor’s offices not long after gaining the injury as they pushed one expensive concoction after another towards him only for all of them to fail. All he got was a really strong high, a sudden loss of independence while under the influence and apparently the bright idea to re-arrange his entire apartment as if the floor was lava. Basso had sat in on that episode, most of which Garrett was relieved he couldn’t remember but apparently nearly added _ broken leg _to the list of things wrong with him when he attempted to jump from the counter top to the couch.

That was the first and only time he had ever given into the bottles tossed his way, admittedly it was at Basso’s insistence hoping it would help Garrett relax and get some sleep. A cup of tea worked better wonders than the opiates handed off to him at the hospital. A cup of tea never convinced him he was superman and could suddenly fly.

At the moment, a cup of tea was the last thing on his mind, though, it would soothe his nerves. No, what he needed was something stronger, to burn off the restless energy that was pent up inside. He rifled through his morning routine, brushing his teeth as he slipped out of his sweatpants and replaced them with a pair of black running shorts and navy blue compression pants underneath. An under armor shirt slipped over his torso, snug fitting to his slender form with a loose cotton t-shirt overtop. 

There was a bit of a nip in the air, even for an early Autumn morning but Garrett anticipated it would feel good on his skin once he started warming up. A few practice stretches on the living room floor as he worked out the kinks in his legs, and loosened up the muscles, folding himself over to elicit pleasant pops and creaks in his body as he limbered up. His toes curling in his nondescript sneakers. He slipped on a pull over hoodie, and a pair of sunglasses as he was heading out the door, ensuring his eyes were properly concealed behind the dark shades before entering the quiet stairwell leading down the four flights of stairs to the lobby. 

His knees keeping even pacing as he took the steps quickly. His fingers making quick work of unfurling the knots in his headphones, cursing the world as they disentangled and he was able to slip one earbud over the curvel of his ear and the other tucked into the front of his shirt. His fingers pressing play on his mp3 when he reached the front door to the building, waiting for his jogging playlist to start up before entering the cool morning air.

A crisp clean bite met the back of his throat as he took in the first rush of air, feet working up a slow pace as he maneuvered himself down the sidewalks and across back streets, heading for the much larger park in the center of town just a few blocks over. He could just glimpse the cluster of greenery and trees rising up from his apartment balcony, the warm orange glow of the lights at night illuminating it until curfew when they would go off and the citizens would be ushered away from the recreational areas for the safety and peace of their own abodes.

There were the odd bodies that busied the basketball courts, getting a few early rounds in before it gets busier or they have to depart for their nine to five jobs. The greyscale coloring that cast the world in a weirdly frozen state as dawn lurched closer, the darker tones brightening, shadows dissipating to be replaced by the soft pinks and purples of the clouds rolling across the expanse of sky. The cracks of golden light breaking through their crevices, pushing their way to parting like a great tide as the sun started to break over the horizon. The off color orange hues lighting up Garrett’s paler features as he followed the curve of the park path that lined the river bank. An older man rested on the bank with pole in hand and a silver canister in his lap, the steam rising up in tiny wisps as Garrett cruised past, the light wafting scent of earthy blends catching his nose, making his stomach grumble with acknowledgement.

A quick check of the time on his flip phone as he slowed to a crawling speed, letting his heart rate slow with him, easy breathes in and out of his chest, measured and mindful, counting the pulse beneath the pads of his fingers like the ticking of a clock. Satisfied with the result, he walked briskly the rest of the way to the end of the stretch of green, past the children’s jungle gym to where a bridge crossed the river towards the nearest parking lot for the area. It was a quick shot down the street, crossing two lanes of traffic on the way back to his apartment where he spied his goal. 

The welcoming blue light of the _ Open _sign greeting him in the front window, accompanied by the inviting scent of freshly baked breads and that elusive earthy aroma of freshly ground coffee beans. Most days, Garrett loathed anything that inhibited his abilities or made his body work harder than it necessarily needed to. He didn’t have any ludicrous desires to feel his heart pounding out of his chest at the first sip of an energy drink but he could always make due with his morning brew. The pick me up settling warmly in his stomach with a soft and buttery pastry or warm muffin on the side. A slight detour for his morning jogs and a reward worthy of the trip from his apartment all the way out into the public eye. 

He waited in line behind two other patrons while the barista took their orders and rang them up. His eyes scanning the room out of habit, noticing the usuals that set up shop the moment the place opened, camped out with their laptops and paperwork stacked, some ringed with coffee stains or other questionable sources of edible substances as their fingers ticked away on the keys dutifully. 

His fingers itched for that familiar feeling under the pads of his fingers, click-clacking away on his own device at home. He shifted from side to side almost anxiously, the pace matching with the notes of the music playing in his ear, the soft noise in his throat barely humming along with it. He watched the barista hand over trays filled with steaming cups and little white bags with the dainty cursive script declaring the shop’s brand. Before long, it was his turn, no need to even ask as the barista simply smiled. 

“The usual?” 

“Yeah.” Garrett nodded in affirmation, leaning against the side of the counter as he worked his wallet out of his pocket. Garrett hadn’t noticed the figure that came in behind him, having barely even registered the bell on the door ringing at the motion of the patrons who left. It wasn’t until a shadow crossed his vision and the warmth of a stranger’s heat grew too close that he tensed, head snapping up in combined confusion and annoyance. The brush of a hand at his back made him bristle, side stepping the counter and feeling the edge press up against his ribcage when he recognized the flash of dark blue apparel and that same shit eating grin that never did dull. 

Long dark brown hair was swept back behind the ears, framing the charming yet rugged features of the assailant who Garrett had come to know as Officer Corvo Attano. The dark shadows of a beard starting to show along the edges of his warm bronze jawline, seeming untouched by a proper shave in days though that failed to take from the roguish smirk tossed his direction. Warm chocolate eyes winked his direction as Corvo placed a bill on the counter, meeting the barista’s inquisitive look with that gods be damned smile that made Garrett’s heart flutter something awful. Or maybe that was just left over from the workout. He wasn’t quite sure, he couldn’t write it off just yet. 

Corvo’s shoulders straightened up, still looming over Garrett, easily dwarfing his fragile size when placed so close to the uniformed police officer. An intimidating display of muscle and power coiled and prepared to be unleashed on the unsuspecting criminal to unfortunately cross paths with the man. Garrett of course had never had any disreputable run ins with Corvo himself, the man seemed to slink in and out of Garrett’s life like a stray dog, trotting along with wagging tail and perked ears, seeking out a moments attention, imparting momentary gifts before disappearing again until their next encounter at their shared favorite cafe on this side of town.

“Morning Garrett.” He greeted easily, his massive size shifting to allow the smaller man room to breath, no longer caging him into the counter space. What momentary sense of panic the action would normally elicit in his chest had fled the moment he recognized the figure, relaxing back into the counter surface, letting the cool glass facade press against his back. Garrett could feel those eyes running an inquisitive gaze over his appearance, the small quirk of his lips tilting up at the corner as if he had suddenly found something to amuse his sense of humour. 

“Morning.” Garrett replied, his tone holding less delight in it, steady and edged still with the notes of a man who had yet to have his morning fix of caffeine, and in Garrett’s case, an ungodly amount of sugar to boot. His eyes flickered towards the barista as he finished up working on Garrett’s drink, a chocolate caramel monstrosity coated to near toppling over the sides with unholy amounts of whipped cream. Thankfully a straw was present, otherwise it would be near impossible to consume such a concoction without getting it all down his front. Corvo raised a brow as Garrett accepted the drink with the sort of delight one would find in a kid at an ice cream truck. Eyes bright with anticipation as he took a long draught of his drink and relished in the buzz that hummed throughout his limbs with each passing second. It was a wonder he wasn’t already bouncing off the walls.

“What?” Garrett asked after a moment, inspecting the officer’s lingering gaze with equal scrutiny. The officer had a funny way of going about things, Garrett had learned. A sort of happy-go-lucky attitude that spread throughout his life, especially in his job, infecting the community with that strangely genuine smile that Garrett couldn’t help but think about in the off hours of his routine. A big stupid smirk branded into his thoughts since the first day they had bumped into each other. It had only been a few months but Garrett found himself easily dropping his guard around the man before he could even realize, only able to rectify the loss after the fact and with pitiful awkward gestures that only seemed to further the depths of that dopey grin.

“I’m thinking that maybe you should have saved the run for _ after _ the coffee. Maybe get you a hamster wheel so you can power the whole city- _ ouch _!” The laughter that erupted from his chest rumbled cleanly, vibrating outwards as Garrett elbowed him in the ribs and scowled, though it was half hearted as he pushed the straw around in his drink. The barista returned with a black coffee in the largest cup available and two separate white packages. One pushed towards Corvo and the other towards Garrett, his usual pastry already nestled inside and awaiting inevitable consumption. The barista took the bill and handed back the change only for Corvo to drop the remainder into the tip jar with a smile. 

“Have a good day!” They called towards the pair as the officer took a drink of his coffee and led them out of the shop. 

“You too.” Corvo called back, Garrett giving a half-attempt at a hummed response, lips wrapped around his straw as he slurped down the sugary concoction, sucking whipped topping from his bottom lip where it scattered along the edge, not quite far enough from his tongue to be missed. The gesture earned another hearty laugh from Corvo as he moved across the sidewalk. 

His cruiser already waiting on the curb to start his patrol. Garrett side eyed it, ignoring the crisp clean logo on the sides, against the bright white body of the newer chargers. Built for speed and easier handling than their older counterparts. From here, Garrett could see Corvo’s service rifle fixed next to the seat, easily within reach should a serious altercation go down. His firearm already nestled on his hip, a swift gesture of Corvo’s free hand turning the radio on his belt on and keying it up to listen in on dispatch as he officially started his work for the day.

He watched Corvo set the white bag down in his passenger seat and fit his coffee in the cup holder, returning to his full monstrous height (Garrett will never get over how unfairly tall he is.) as he smirked down at him.

Garrett fumbled for his words, realizing his prolonged silence had lingered far longer than normal. Though that was more for stubborness sake than anything. Clearing his throat, he gave a small sheepish smile up at the man. “Thanks for the coffee, again.” He added that last part quickly, cheeks warming at the thought. He blamed it on the sun pouring through the cloud coverage now. Eyeing the man over his sunglasses, the warmth of the morning starting to slowly climb, making his already sweat dampened skin prickle with the discomfort of the coming heat and humidity.

“You’re welcome.” Corvo chirped.

He pushed the straw around inside his cup, noting it was already half empty in his endeavor to be preoccupied, causing a momentary frown at the limited treat. The disappointment barely concealed with the dip of his head, despite this being the regular pairing he retrieved every single morning. Sometimes with the addition of one rather large officer looming almost hauntingly over his shoulder like a quiet shadow. 

They didn’t always see each other at the cafe but when they did, Corvo would go out of his way to buy Garrett’s coffee and breakfast, refusing to take no for an answer. At first it had put him off, but Corvo mentioned it as a good deed for the day, Garrett had brushed it off with a hint of suspicion, wary of the lingering officer in his peripheral. The blue fabric and shiny badge prominently pinned to the front of his chest making him jumpy and nervous. Then when it happened again, Garrett had been annoyed but with time, some polite chit chat (when Corvo could finally get Garrett to talk more than two word sentences) and a lot of coffees, Garrett had fallen into the lull of their usual routine when crossing. 

Unaware that he was spacing out again, Garrett's idle thoughts were interrupted, thankfully, by the frizzled static of the radio as a message came over the speaker. The steady tone of a woman's voice calling out a series of coded numbers that didn't make a wink of sense to Garrett but he could tell by the sharpening expression on Corvo's face that he could. Part of the message shared the same unit number that Corvo's cruiser sported, Garrett noticed, just as he noticed the warmth that bled out of Corvo's eyes as he went into work mode. Their morning banter falling silent before it could really begin, though it more often than not contained more teasing quips from Corvo while Garrett sarcastically shot each one down, growing in fondness with each passing moment. 

It had become easy for Garrett, opening himself up little by little as he watched this peculiar man flourish before him. Always so easy going in every environment whereas Garrett, Garrett was awkward in the light of day, preferring dark corners and quiet to the hustle and bustle of public service. He figured Corvo was a perfect match for the job. Even now as he inspected the large man climbing easily into the front seat of his cruiser and responding to the dispatcher as she relayed information over. An apologetic look aimed Garrett's direction which he met with a small sympathetic smile, barely seen from behind his cup.

"Guess I'll have to catch up with you later." He called softly, not wanting to interrupt the man's work. The expression that formed in Corvo's features was unreadable, something Garrett couldn't name flashed briefly across before it fell to the stoic facade of a man at work. It wasn't long, as Garrett trailed down the street, not even reaching the first intersection on his way home when he spotted the cruiser shooting past him, flashing blue and red lights flaring up with the ghostly wail of a far too familiar siren. 

Garrett ignored the tightening sensation that clouded his chest and the ache that formed in the back of his skull, snug right behind his eye. He sipped at his coffee, hitting the bottom of the cup with his straw as he gurgled loudly, aiming to snatch every last drop that remained. He lingered on the sidewalk, silently mapping out the route the sirens were taking through the city, headed for the busier highway ramps. The distant wail of ambulance sirens followed, and the streaking red body of a fire engine slowly rolled around the corner in pursuit, navigating the winding streets. Garrett sighed, his curiosity reminding him to check the news later this evening. Part of him convinced himself it was out of sheer nosiness to know what went down. The other part simply hoped to see Corvo in the backdrop.


	2. Preparations of Spite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrett gets an assignment from Basso and Corvo gets dragged into extra work. Only one of them is happy about it.

Garrett sucked a sprinkle off of his thumb, catching the sweet strawberry filling that oozed from the puff pastry onto his fingers. The chocolate frosted top sprinkled with the colorful sugary decorations that honestly smeared on the corner of his mouth. He was half paying attention to the emails laid out before him on his laptop, the encrypted messages, coded and secure through special programs Garrett himself had made over the years. His brows furrowed in minute frustration when the old worn flip phone vibrated across the smooth wooden surface of the kitchen counter. It bumped the newspaper spread out with this week's sale ads and some big long page for the newest wing at the City museum.

His gaze flitting over the dark blue ink that smudged the edges of the pages, little notes written in the margins of the column about the museum. It was a simple enough way of tracking and discussing contracts. No digital paper trails. Easy enough to dispose of. Garrett licked the smear of chocolate off his thumb, suckled the tidbits of strawberry filling from the dip between his thumb and forefinger, balancing the pastry in his free hand as he flipped open his phone.

He tucked his legs up in his chair, folded crisscross and balanced precariously as if the stool would give out if he twisted or shifted his weight at just the right angle. He was back in his sweatpants, with a dark t-shirt slipped over his lithe frame, almost baggy around his shoulders and pooling over his hips. His hair slightly damp from the fresh shower and smelling softly of mint.

His pinky hit the speaker button on his phone, accepting the incoming call buzzing to life. 

"What do you got for me, Basso?" Garrett called, his voice softened as he enamored himself with his breakfast. 

Basso didn't sound as chipper as Garrett to be up so early already. His voice heavy, almost sluggish as the shuffling of papers followed suit. "Ya get my note?"

"Yeah." Garrett confirmed. "It's a bit hard to read through all the smudges Basso."

The quiet grumbling that ensued was intermingled with a few choice curses too low for Garrett to properly make out but knowing Basso, he had a hunch on what exactly was said. “Ay, I was afraid o’ that. Got a new set of pens and they uh, aren’t holdin up fer the job.” He drawled with a growl of frustration at the realization. A heavy sigh rushed over the phone as Garrett took another bite of his pastry, making an odd popping sound with his lips as he tried to keep the strawberry filling from dripping down his shirt. He had yet to do laundry for the week and was running out of clean clothing fast.

“You eaten anotha of those blasted donuts?” Basso barked over the speaker, earning a hard glare from Garrett though the malice was lost to the dimly lit screen of his flip phone. Basso cursed. “One a these days yer gonna be a diabetic from all that sugar you been eaten. Don’t know how you’ll survive when the time comes.”

“_ The job, Basso. _ ” Garrett reminded firmly, not wanting to sit in on another round of Basso’s life lessons on dietary upkeep. Garrett liked to think he was doing pretty good, keeping a well balanced diet with equal parts exercise, managing a steady weight and size for his job and the intricately calibrated equipment he often used. Just because his mornings were filled with his daily reward for the upkeep, and honestly after the run he does, he needs the sugar to replenish, didn’t mean that he wasn’t staying fit and healthy. Of course, he didn’t really need to balance all that much. His body burned through calories faster than a flame through paper which left him hungry and scrounging all the time. Especially after big, physically taxing jobs. Honestly, he had to work harder just to keep his current weight _ on _, any deviations in appetite and he’d look like a walking skeleton. 

Something which he discovered the hard way after recovering from his injury. Basso had sat in with him, nitpicking and mother henning him to ensure he could get around his apartment, was eating and taking the eye drops and vitamins supplied to him. If keeping his physical appearance meant indulging himself a little, then so be it. It could be considered a calculated bonus on his part.

“Alright, alright,” Basso grunted, a dismissive tone to the edge Garrett directed at him. He heard the shuffling of papers and the squawking of a bird greeting him in the background warranting a comment of acknowledgment from Basso's end. “Jenivere says hello.”

“I can hear. Give her my regards.” Garrett preened, hearing Basso muffle the speaker, probably with the stack of pages in his hands while his stifled voice took on an uncharacteristically doting tone. Garrett couldn’t make out what was being said but he knew Basso long enough to know, despite his front of disliking the temperamental magpie, the man was a sucker for her and anyone who saw his house, be it a very rare occasion, would know by the abundance of toys, perches and open cages for her to explore, climb and sing from. Not to mention all of the treats Basso hid around the house for her to find and peck at.

A shuffle of papers followed and Garrett was graced with the more put together business like front of Basso, or so he sounded. He cleared his throat, fidgeted then started. “How much of the message wasn’t smudged?”

“The part about stealing from the new wing of the museum collection. What exactly is in there that’s so interesting?” Garrett responded, working the last bits of his pastry in his hands, as if contemplating how much will fit in his small mouth and if he could manage to down it all in one go. Seeming satisfied at his chances, he gave it a try. It didn’t go quite as planned as he smeared chocolate everywhere but then again, that’s what the kitchen sink was for. He listened to Basso explain the details while he slipped off the chair and padded barefoot to the sink to clean up his mess. 

“The new exhibit is showcasin artifacts found in what was believed to be a forgotten buried tomb on the outskirts of the City.” The rustling of papers followed as if searching for the more prominent bits of info that would mean the most to Garrett and his job. “They recovered bodies and shit from there, remnants of crypts-”

“I’m not a grave robber Basso.” Garrett reminded swiftly, cutting the man off while wiping his now clean face with a damp paper towel, inspecting his hands for missed traces of his breakfast. His eyes roving over the chipped paint on his fingernails, reminding himself to freshen up the black coat before the day’s end. 

“I’m not sendin ya in for bodies or nothin Garrett.” Basso scoffed, finding amusement in the notion of him trying to scurry out with limbs tucked into odd portions of his pack. “And ya won’t be bustin into no coffins either. The item the client wants is a ring that’s on display. Very old, very _ valuable. _”

“And very well guarded I assume.” Garrett finished. He rolled his eyes at the phone, looking back at his laptop as he searched through the recent newspaper articles about the dig site discovered on the City ends. It was large and very old, considered to be part of the original foundations of the City when it was first settled and built. There were rumors of ancient civilizations planted on these same foundations and this discovery is throwing both the scientific and historical communities into a tizzy. Experts have been flocking to the City to examine the sites which caused an influx in police and security in these areas. Including the museum itself.

“What d’ya say Garrett?” Basso pressed after a few minutes. Garrett stroked his thumb over his jaw, feeling the cool touch of his damp fingers against the beginnings of stubble. He’d have to clean up before the job, if only for his own fickle needs. Sprucing up to look his best, besides, not like anyone else will be watching.

“I’ll do it.” He announced after a stretch of silence. 

“Good. There’s a dinner party bein hosted for the City’s top brass to introduce the new exhibit. They’ll show it off, usher everyone to the next room for a big meal, work a few donations into the evening, ya know how the upper class is.” Basso sighed, flitting through papers. 

“Yeah, lots of checkbooks and big aspirations. The guards will be more concerned about the outside perimeter around the room, not so much the case itself. Easy enough.” He clicked his tongue, already working out how to go about this. He’d need some time to figure things out but he had enough to work with from now until the party the next day. 

“If I need anything else, I’ll give you a shout Basso.”

“Hopefully the next time I hear from ya, it’ll be to drop off the blasted thing.”

Garrett chuckled, hearing Basso mumble his farewell before the phone clicked off, leaving Garrett to his thoughts and a glimmer in the corner of his eye. His lips quirked up into a smile as he dropped back into his seat, fingers already working away at the keys on his computer, compiling blueprints, security systems, security companies, etc. Everything he’d need to know to anticipate the best possible outcome, or even the worst. Lucky for him, most upper class citizens were more paranoid about their homes getting broken into than the Museum’s were, making his job easier. 

* * *

Corvo clicked his teeth together against the unfortunate pen cap that was currently being warped out of shape by idle chewing. The edges bitten to pieces as he leaned back in his chair, eyes staring at the files strewn across his desk, mind running over a myriad of thoughts that honestly were too much trouble to keep track of. He had spent the last hour and a half filling out paperwork on the car accident that happened earlier that morning. Luckily there were no casualties but he spent most of his lunch time directing traffic around the firefighters that worked tirelessly to clean up the scene. It was a three car incident that started due to a distracted driver fiddling with their radio instead of paying attention to the merging cars.

Three injuries, two shaken up passengers, a totaled vehicle and one that was barely held together by the framework. The third lucked out with cosmetic damage but there was debris everywhere. Some of which he had to pry from the sole of his boot, the annoying clicking of glass shards wedged into the rubber soles of his work boots had quickly got on his nerves. The heat had come out in full force early on, forcing him to swipe a spare shirt from his desk drawer to change, take a rushed lunch between meetings and reports. Now that things had settled down, he was bored. 

He checked his watch four times, waiting for his shift to end. There was no point in going for patrol til the end and Lieutenant Harlan mentioned a meeting was to go on and attendance was mandatory. Still, twenty minutes til the end of his shift and no signs of the aforementioned man.

He withdrew the damaged pen cap away from his lip, spitting out the pieces of plastic that broke away and dropped the cap into the trash can under his desk. Running his fingers through his hair, he sighed, tipping his head back to stare up at the ceiling, inspecting the yellowed stained paneling that stretched across the expanse of the room. His chair leaned back with it, groaning under his weight as he posted his feet and rocked it gently. His eye catching on an older gentleman that lingered two desks over. His dark hair combed back neatly, short and smooth. His uniform was pristine in its appearance, unlike Corvo’s which had become wrinkled from the day’s work. His steely eyes turned to meet Corvo’s gaze, greeting him with only the briefest of nods, remaining as stoic and cold as ever. From this angle, he could barely make out the stark white lines of old scarring on the side of his face, the distance making them fade, harder to pinpoint against the Mediterranean tone of his skin.

The man was newer to the precinct, but not to the job itself. Rumors had it, he used to be part of a homicide division in another city but the work was taking a toll. Of course these were just rumors that wove in and out of the coffee room gossip, fueled by rookies and veterans alike in their off hours. Corvo never took too much stock in rumors these days. They had a nasty way of biting one in the ass, true or not.

“Attano! Daud!” Corvo startled in his chair, sitting bolt upright as the frame protested with a loud squeal that made him wince. He needed to mention that to maintenance one of these days. Brushing the thundering of his heart aside, his dark eyes focused on the prominent figure of the Lieutenant himself as he stalked into the office. Cool green eyes scanned the room and found both men before turning abruptly for his own private office, a hand waving them to follow with a snipped. “Gentlemen.”

Thadeus Harlan, Lieutenant of the Eternal City Police Department. His specialty was catching purse snatchers and burglars in all honesty, though nothing more exciting really happened around here other than the odd overdose case and drug dealer raid. There were murmurs that Harlan was the reason so little happens in these neighborhoods. The man was a bloodhound when it came to hunting down criminals, relentless, keen and quick witted. He’s pulled off more successful sting operations in the last three years than the history of the department put together. The man was determined to say the least, though that was putting it kindly. Corvo had a hunch he was obsessed with it, that he gained a sick sort of satisfaction from the job. It wasn't unheard of really.

He rocked to his feet, his boots scuffing the floor with the first lazy step as he stretched his back and shoulders. The pleasant popping was met with a satisfied groan before following after the Lieutenant. Daud was already ahead of him, disturbingly quiet and quick. Now that Corvo thought about it, the man barely ever spoke to anyone. He could probably count the number of conversations he’s had with the man on one hand, maybe two if he was pushing it and including the brief grunts or mentions of his name to get his attention in passing.

He held the door for a moment, just long enough for Corvo to reach out and catch it with one hand and creep into the Lieutenant’s office. He gestured towards the two seats across from his desk, Daud taking one with ease, Corvo accepting the other, his movements were heavier and caused the chair to creak. His brows furrowed in frustration that everything in this damn place was built far too small for him. When he looked up, he caught Harlan watching him with a cocked brow, something kin to amusement rested on his lips before it faded. Corvo ignored his fussing and sat forward, his hands placed on his knees. 

Unlike Corvo and Daud, Harlan didn’t wear the signature blues that screamed Police. He was fitted in a suit, more appropriate for his rank. A grey silk button up and dark slacks, a black suit jacket fit comfortably over his shoulders with an expensive looking silver tie that completed the appearance. His jacket was left unbuttoned at the moment and Corvo rarely saw the man disheveled or unkempt, even on the days where the sweltering heat of summer snuck through the open windows while the AC was broken. It was hard to stay in full uniform when he felt like he was boiling inside it, dying to get in his cruiser to run patrols but he was newer, got stuck with the desk work while everyone else rushed around to stay where it was cool.

Harlan stroked the dark whiskers along his jar thoughtfully, the sound seemed oddly loud in the quiet little office. The hustle and bustle that normally made the place lively was thwarted by those eagerly awaiting shift change. Corvo, sadly being one of them, his eyes flickering to the clock on the wall where it ticked slowly closer. Annoyance bubbling up in his stomach at the idea that this meeting would put him over on his hours and late for picking up Emily from school. If worse comes to worse, he could shoot the babysitter a quick text and just pay her extra for the last minute request. He just hoped it wouldn’t come to that. 

“Gentlemen.” Harlan began, stealing Corvo’s attention back towards his superior, brow raised in waiting for the man to spit it out already. He was thankful that the universe was listening as his impatience spiked another notch. Harlan reached for a paper on his desk, neatly organized in tidy trays and labeled appropriately. The man was immaculate in his organization, that was obvious. 

“I’m sure you both have heard about the Museum’s new exhibit opening tomorrow night.” Well, that wasn’t what Corvo was expecting. Harlan didn’t wait for any confirmation from either of them as he continued. “The curator and director have reached out to us and requested additional security for the grounds. They don’t expect any trouble to come about tomorrow evening but hope our presence will keep would-be troublemakers at bay.” 

It wasn’t a request for volunteers. Corvo inwardly groaned, already anticipating what was coming. 

“I’ve chosen you two fine gentlemen to help out. There will already be a significant number of security guards on site so there won’t be much work. You of course won’t be working your normal hours.”

Corvo frowned. He was supposed to have tomorrow off. He didn’t voice this protest, figuring he could at least enjoy sleeping in before his shift. He reached up to scratch at his jaw, smothering the urge to fidget as his eyes darted towards the clock once more.

It was Daud who spoke up, breaking the silence that settled between them. “Is there any particular threat we should be wary of?” It was a good question, if the Museum was concerned about a few ancient bones, they wouldn’t necessarily be calling in the police force for additional manpower. Though this felt like a Mummy's curse sort of situation, well, that is if they were in a bad sci fi movie.

Harlan paused, considered the man’s question with slow calculated scrutiny. After a moment, he leaned back in his chair, green eyes sliding from Corvo to Daud before dropping to his desk. He reached for another paper, pushing it across the desk where the pair could see. Daud leaned closer to get a better look. Corvo stared at it with momentary confusion. 

“A ring?” He asked, looking to Harlan for confirmation. 

“It's supposedly priceless. The only one of its kind.” There was a pause before his voice drifted slowly. “Any thief worth his salt would be after it. It has shaken up a few interested collectors who have already extended their desires to acquire it towards the Museum. With so many offers and the vast amount of money being flaunted, the director is concerned that those who have been denied could easily pay someone else to obtain it for them.”

“And you think the grand opening will be the time to strike.” Corvo confirmed, watching Harlan nod. He resigned himself with a tired sigh, leaning back in his seat as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright then.”

“Report to me when you start your shift.” Harlan added, his tone dismissive, punctuated by the subtle nod towards the door.

Corvo and Daud rose to their feet with a joined “Yes sir.” before quietly leaving the Lieutenant's office. He glanced towards the clock, inspecting the time and doing mental math to figure just how late he’ll be and if he can get away with going lights and sirens all the way to the school through traffic. 


	3. Cat Burglar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrett steals shit and Corvo hates his job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has been a lot of fun to write so far and with that excitement, i was inspired to crank out another chapter. Hopefully you all enjoy it! Garrett is still a disaster child and Corvo hates his job and worries about the trials and tribulations of being a single father to a young girl. The road is tough for both of them and only going to get tougher from here on out. Hopefully you enjoy!

_ Twisting, painful, cold. _

_ Garrett struggled for a breath but was met only with the burning ache of his lungs, legs kicking with futile motions against the current that dragged him under. The dark shadow figure that reached out, curling jagged fingers around his throat…. _

  


Garrett was growing tired of these nightmares that plagued him constantly in the last few months. It had been little glimpses of terrors here and there, waking up with the faint imprints of fear thrust through his heart. His ribcage ached as it pounded within like a panicked caged bird trying desperately for a freedom not meant for it. Sweat plastered his hair to his skull, left it sticky and uncomfortable. The humidity of the afternoon making his clothes cling to him. He pushed himself up, lingered by the closed curtains that offered long swathes of darkness across his apartment. A curt pull of the wrist, fingers wound into the thick heavy fabric and he drew it back to expose the bright light of day, bathing the hustle and bustle of the city in golden light. Garrett cringed, his right eye stinging with the dull throb that seemed to nestle at the back like a fickle creature, growing spooked at every corner that wasn’t comprised of darkness. 

He palmed over his face, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, feeling the pain ebb slowly, fading like wisps of smoke from a candle. His hand dropped down to cradle the back of his neck, rolling his head back and forth to work the crick out of it, stifling a groan at the discomfort. He could only hope the coming night would be cooler. The oppressive heat made working miserable and Garrett feared a slip of sweaty palms on ledges or lockpicks falling from his fingers as they grasped blindly through the heat. It made running unbearable, suffocating in his chest with time.

He padded, barefoot across the wood floors towards the bathroom, cooling his skin and washing his face with a wet washcloth. The sound of the faucet running threw him back into the nightmare that clung to his thoughts the way his clothes did to his body. His hands covered his face, dropping to kneel on the bathroom floor as he controlled his breathing, rocking back and forth onto his knees, the heels of his ankles pressed against the butt of his shorts. The cold tile floor of the bathroom with its slightly off color white and cracked corners from being battered over the years, was cool on his bare shins, grounding him as he rocked in place, head tipped back, eyes squeezed shut until the panic that circled his lungs like a vice had faded. 

Every breath slowly eased, deep and slow, in through his nose and out through his mouth. That was something he was steadily growing more accustomed to, the sudden bouts of panic and anxiety that would seize him, freeze him in place unable to control himself. At first, when it happened, Basso had been crashing on his couch not even a few days after his release from the hospital. The man found Garrett curled up on the bathroom floor, caught between crying, dry-heaving and hyperventilating. Whatever had come over him left him paler than the floor itself, desperately clutching at anything he could but at the same time, trying to scramble away from it all. It took Basso hours to calm Garrett and by morning, it dawned on him what had transpired. 

Garrett made Basso promise not to bring that moment of vulnerability back up again. The look in Basso’s eyes made Garrett feel so small and helpless and he hated it. It made his skin crawl, he wanted to curl up in the bottom of the bathtub and disappear. Basso had only good intentions, would check in on him frequently, ask him with delicately prepared inquiries about his well being, skirting carefully around the real definition of those questions. Basso had good intentions but Garrett was not okay with acknowledging what was wrong. Had a mean stubborn streak about it, a nasty habit to have in this business but keeping secrets was part of the job. Even if it meant hiding insecurities from friends. Dearly beloved or not, it was Garrett’s choice in the end and Basso backed down and let him have the victory for the day.

Since then the panic attacks, much like his nightmares, would come and go at odd intervals. Sometimes together, sometimes not. Rarely would he make it a few days without either hindering his routine. He had taught himself how to manage, through clenched teeth, a large amount of spite and stubborn pride, he pushed on with the day. Forcing himself to his feet, Garrett turned off the faucet, inspecting where the washrag had fallen from his grasp, he wrung it out and hung it to dry before continuing. He had far more pressing matters to attend to besides the imaginary phantoms his mind threw in front of him. He aimed for two things this afternoon and he refused to let either get in his way. Coffee and a warm pastry. 

* * *

  


Garrett knew today was going to be a weird one, could feel it in his bones that everything was shifting out of balance. It wasn't the twinge in the back of his skull, that dull ache that formed every morning he woke up to greet the day and all the ridiculous obscurities it had to offer. No, his telling sign was the moment the barista at the coffee shop informed him that their baker had failed to make his favorite chocolate dipped strawberry filled donuts. Instead, he had to pick from the thinly glazed blueberry or, _ what kind of psycho eats black cherry? _ He sighed, glaring at the glass case with a mixture of disappointment and dread, mourning his scant few choices, he fell into the void of blueberries and sucked it up.

As afternoon turned to evening, Garrett finished up his preparations, read over the blueprints with intense scrutiny. Feeling satisfied with his gathered knowledge, studying the layout of the wing and its construction, he examined the surrounding area earlier in the day while on his morning jog, plotting his escape route into the night. It was simple enough. Easier than some of the wealthier residents he’s stolen from. At least Museums didn’t have dogs waiting around every corner, eager to take a bite out of him.

He waited until night fell before putting on his gear. Donning the familiar leathers that fit snug to his body, fingers carefully synching the straps and laces tight, caressing his body in a way that eased his nerves. Every piece was like a part of his identity, layering on one after another until he was complete. He carefully folded up his hood, scarf and cloak along with his tools to be placed in a black waterproof bag. A leather jacket pulled over his shoulders, picking up the black helmet he used for riding, looking fondly into the yellow visor that distorted his reflection back at him. His gloved fingers sliding over the curves of the exterior design giving the helmet the appearance of a feline with ears folded close to the sides and a prominent peak in the front that resembled the ridge of a large predatory cat’s nose and snout. 

He picked up his bag and took the stairs two at a time, his soft leather boots muffling the sounds of his footsteps, making them silent even on the creaky steps of his apartment building. Below the building was a small parking structure where even smaller storage compartments could be rented, big enough for a handful of boxes, at most a couple bicycles for those who needed easier travel through the City’s busy streets. Garrett unlocked the door, rolling it up and over to reveal the sleek black motorcycle that awaited him. 

His lips quirked up into a smile as he pulled his baby out of her hiding place, sliding the door down behind him to lock it tight. His hands coming to rest on the handlebars as he did one last check on her, fastening his pack to the back of his seat before sliding into it, his body molding to her shape with ease. Basso still balked at him about how attached he was to the bike, even going so far as to name it Erin, but what could he say? He was sentimental about things that were important. He worked hard to get her and he kept her in pristine shape, despite the handful of failings in the past, she always came through and never let him down.

Slipping his helmet on and fastening the strap, he shifted his jacket to a comfortable position, feeling the worn grip of the handles under his gloved fingers as he kicked up the stand and crept out of the parking structure. A quick look down both directions of the little back alley behind his apartment building, he pulled onto the main street and disappeared into the night. 

  
  


* * *

To say Corvo was bored out of his mind would be an understatement. He stared out at the expanse of people that flooded the front doors of the Museum dressed in clothes that probably cost more than his car and with an air of superiority that made him question why he cared again. Oh, yeah, because he was being paid to. It didn’t stop the yawn that spurred after a moment, dark brown gaze squinting into the crowd as he rubbed his palm against one eye and sighed. His desire to sleep in earlier that morning was interrupted as Emily reminded him that she had a friend’s birthday party to attend. Corvo had forgotten about it, remembering it had a joint sleepover later that evening. It allowed him to get some house work done in her absence, cleaning up the whirlwind mess his daughter left behind in her haste to leave. Corvo was just grateful that he didn’t need to call the babysitter for the night and left one less worry on his plate. 

He fidgeted against the far wall of the room as two security officers exchanged orders and carried on with their evening patrols of the rest of the Museum. Corvo hadn't been unfortunate enough to be graced with this sort of mind numbing idleness since his days as a rookie fresh from the Academy and even then, he at least had the benefit of new experiences and the nerves that accompanied doing a good job. His gaze trailed through the crowd until he caught the familiar figure of Daud who had unfortunately been positioned in the center of the gathering, watching the crowd as they flooded the exhibit room with anticipation. From the snippets of conversation that stirred in the crowd, it was an invitation only party and most of the attendees were here more for the gossip that circled around the rooms and not for the priceless artifacts that were tucked behind sterile glass cases and roped off with heavy red cording.

The only saving grace was that it had cooled down a bit outside as the sun sank over the horizon, settling the city in ambient darkness. Only the sickly orange lighting of street lamps humming on the curbs fought away the blackness and all its shadowy endeavors. The humidity abated outside and was further squashed indoors with the air conditioning running at full blast. Almost to the point of being _ too cold _for some of the female guests who appeared to lack the common decency of covering up for formal occasions. More than once, he's caught the low hanging necklines that bordered on obscenity. This was a museum, not a nightclub.

He could only hope Emily would have more sense to dress appropriately when she reached those explorative years when media, society and gaudy fashion statements were more front and center. He silently rolled his eyes at the thought, banishing the idea from his mind and hoping he would have a little longer to wait before he needed to worry about that topic of discussion. And god help him with merciful patience and guidance when it does.

Squashing the thoughts that crept into his head when idleness took over, he opted for stretching his legs and walking the length of the hall he was positioned in. Occasionally he would talk to the security guards that gathered at the entrance after the last guest arrived, watching the doors for any late stragglers or nosy uninvited reporters. The night carried on quietly, well, aside from the rare guest who had a little too much champagne to drink. After the initial announcement introducing the exhibit, the director appraised and discussed each piece with lavish detail, drawing out the faux aah's and ooh's that followed. Attendants nodded their heads in half hearted understanding, looking almost as bored as he was.

His amusement spiked when he caught a young lady in a long lavender gown, brunette hair tied up into a tight bun as she tried and obviously failed to engage Daud in friendly conversation. Her body language growing increasingly more suggestive as time passed but Daud, to Corvo's astonishment, kept that stoic facade, brushing off her advances and reminded her quietly to keep her distance from the glass viewing cases. The woman eventually gave up with a discouraged pout and wandered off to find her date who Corvo noticed was chatting it up with another older gentleman near the remains of an ancient tomb engraving.

There was pieces of pottery, old decaying tools made of wood and brittle iron with dulled edges assumed to be used for agriculture or architectural work. Wooden beams branded with faded and weather warped patterns that may have once been beautifully designed. One case held the remains of old brass buckles, golden pins and clasps, even a couple pieces of jewelry, possibly a chain of some kind with an old stained pearl still clutching to the facets.

In another case was a gorgeous piece made of delicately linked wiring, made immensely fragile with time. It wasn't intact, much like the pearl chain, and had two small squarely cut rubies fixed within them. It was in pieces, other parts of the necklace were missing their carefully crafted jewels. Now they were just dark empty sockets cleaned up carefully to be gazed upon. Beside it was a small golden clip, badly bent and cracked where delicate leaves were formed with small amber pearls. The needle that was attached to the back had long since broken off and it looked barely intact even now. 

Corvo wondered how much longer most of these items would have remained before finally succumbing to decay and return to the earth one way or another, with rust and rot.

It was a strange thought that had crossed his mind. He wrinkled his nose as the particularly strong odor of perfume wafted across his senses making him recoil back. His eyes darted to find the offender only to come to rest on an older woman with more jewelry on her fingers and around her neck, that he wondered how she managed to stay upright. Even with her stooped posture, shoulders hunched over and the plumage of pearls that encircled her neck looked more like an anchor that threatened to pull her the rest of the way to the floor. At her side was a younger man who Corvo assumed to be a family member, assisting her across the room, stopping long enough to inspect each case and comment in hushed words before carrying on. She was one of few to actually give the pieces any consideration at all, while the rest eagerly awaited their dismissal to the prepared dining hall. 

In truth, it was a large educational center but the stationed desks that fit scholars and enthusiasts into cramped quarters had been replaced with larger more lavish tables covered in white cloths and decorated in tasteful seasonal displays. Comfortable cushioned chairs were brought in on trollies from a rental company in town known better for their wedding rentals.

Corvo listened as the group was dismissed from the exhibit room and ushered to the next point of interest. The guests wandered in droves with half or completely empty champagne glasses in hand, chattering more lively now that the occasion allowed. He imagined for them, it was unbearable to hold their silence for so long, venom tipped words jabbing and prodding at each other’s status and personal affairs. It always surprised him how everyone seemed to know each other at these sorts of gatherings, as if they each had a little black book devoted to the weaknesses and failings alongside successes of one another, drawn up with all their dark little secrets. It made his stomach roll, reminded of these sorts of events when he was younger, back when Jessamine would pull him along for work at the firm. The steely eyes that glossed him over, the pointed questions and that little twitch of a hybrid between condescending and disgusted that filtered through their words. All spoken through tight knit smiles that looked as plastic as their face lifts and botox.

Corvo took no delight in keeping that kind of company but knew Jessamine had no other choice in the matter if she wanted to maintain a steady flow of clients. He had admired that about her, the way she saw through the games and the broken faulty promises and praises aimed her way. She did as she pleased despite the status quo and the norm that had been rife throughout the business. Back in Dunwall, law and order only mattered when the wealthy were slighted and the impoverished were a nuisance. Jessamine was a rebel among sinners and he feared that had been what led to her murder.

He sighed heavily, dismissing the darkening thoughts and returning to his post far from the chattering upper class, pausing only to offer an apologetic smile towards Daud while he secured the room before locking it up behind himself. His post changed from standing near the exhibits to guarding the heavy fire proof double doors leading in.

* * *

Garrett had left his bike parked several streets over from the building, tucked into a side alley far enough back that nobody would glimpse it in the dull orange glow of the street lights. An old tarp pulled over it to hide it further, melting into the backdrop of accumulated trash and debris piled into the space. He exchanged his helmet and jacket for is hood and cloak, his scarf pulled around his face and dark kohl surrounded his eyes leaving them sunken in appearance, hidden in the shadows he easily molded into. 

His bow and quiver were clipped to the harness on his back, the leather pouches on his belt contained all he needed for a successful heist. The mental map laid out on the forefront of his thoughts as he quickly crossed the streets where the lamp light’s illumination didn’t reach leaving bridges of darkness for him to dart across. He took easily to the back alleys and rooftops, remembering the carefully mapped out surroundings that morning, every ladder and fire escape, every condemned building that harbored the shadows of the night, holes in the walls and doorways. Escape routes and hideaways. Dozens of outcomes run critically through his head as he counted each result, good and bad.

The walk to the Museum was a shore one, his eyes checking the time, judging how long this ridiculous party was going to go. If he’s too early then he risked being caught, if he’s too late then the security system will be put into place and guard rotations could change.

Garrett climbed the roof with ease, aided by the claw as he grappled up the side, shimmying up the rope line and retracting the tool to rest back on his belt. The maintenance door had a simpler locking system on it. Dropping to kneel, it took a couple trials and error as he felt out the mechanisms. The thinner material covering his finger pads made it easier to feel out the movements, the subtle changes in leverage. His tongue pressed between his lips, eyes closed as he focused on the barely audible sound until he was met with a successful click. Tucking the lockpicks away, he slipped inside, quietly shutting the door behind him. 

He stepped carefully, descending down the service stairwell, ducking down against the wall as he peered through the crack between the door and its frame, watching the catering company that supplied the dinner push large carts filled with steaming trays past. His stomach rumbled with the temptation- _ was that prime rib? _ Well, at least now he knows where all the funding was going towards. Serving prime rib to the wealthy while increasing admission for the poor schmucks that _ actually _attended the museum weekly.

He waited patiently until he was certain no more waiters would pass through the back hall, opening the door a little further, he looked both ways before darting down the stretch of carpeted floor to the next two sets of doors. One was a janitorial room, the other was a mechanical room. The mess of wiring and dusty metal panels that greeted him offered more warmth than the building itself. Garrett had been worried it would be too warm but just from the short time indoors, he was glad he wore the extra padding under his leathers. This was proven to be a better idea when he took to the ventilation shaft, the cold metal pressing against his knees and forearms while he wiggled his way through, listening for any disturbances in the supports.

It took him a few minutes to orient himself inside the vents, the cold air blowing across his skin and the several different sections of fans he had to take apart with his wrench to pass through. It was agonizingly slow work, his fingers getting stiff from the chill. After the last vent, he spent a minute alone flexing and curling them, blowing warm air on them to loosen them up before continuing. Relief washed over him when he finally found the right vent opening, working the metal grate free with a few twists of his wrench, he looped a length of rope around the slats and slowly lowered it down to dangle before pushing it back up to rest precariously on the ledge.

The room was larger than Garrett had anticipated, his eyes scanning the darkness with a small handheld blacklight making it easier to read the plaques but not bright enough to catch anyone’s attention should they peek inside. He examined the glass cases, inspecting one after another, eyes lighting up at the old decayed jewelry pieces. It was a shame they couldn’t recover the full sets or even the completely intact pieces, Garrett estimated they would be worth more than the ring he was sent after. 

After sating his curiosity and steering clear of the obvious cases with human remains inside them, he found his way to the central exhibit where the ring stood on a podium nestled into a velvet holder. A black onyx base surrounding it. It had a strange mechanical quality to it, with edges that reminded Garrett of cog work, an ethereal swirl in the base gave a haunting flow to the pattern.

His right eye ached the longer he stared at it, inspecting every last detail with intrigue. The dull throb became sharper, making it harder for him to focus. He pressed the back of his glove to his eye, willing away the discomfort that pulsed like its own separate heartbeat tucked inside his skull. He silenced the groan that wanted to come forth and forced himself to work. The faster he got this done, the sooner he could go home to the darkness of his apartment to relax.

He clipped the ultraviolet light to the front of his harness just above his breast bone as he worked. He disarmed any hidden security contraptions lining the base of the glass frame, pulling the paneling open at the back and snipping a few wires to remove the pressure alarm, following it up with one last look around. Seeming satisfied with the work, he slid the back panelling of the case off, exposing the intricate framework built around it. He reached in and withdrew the ring with cautious fingers, being certain not to push on the base. The pain in his head came surging forward, slicing through his eye socket like a hot iron. Garrett’s breath caught in his chest as a voice curled at the back of his neck. His eyes widened, turning to face the intruder, his nerves wired, muscles tightly wound, fingers already gripping the stun rod on his belt but was met with empty space.

The creeping icy chill that wormed its way down his spine stirred an ache in his back and shoulders, causing them to hunch up. A muscle pulled in his neck, taut against his movements as his body defied the commands given to it. Murmurs in his thoughts, familiar phantoms pressing against the void, reaching through cold waves that lapped at his ankles threatening to pull him under. His chest grew tight, making each breath heavy as if it solidified in his lungs.

The sprouting panic that seized him was shattered quickly when the heavy doors clicked, the doorknob twisting with effort as it started to open. Garrett stuffed the ring into his pouch, clicked off the ultraviolet light and darted to the next set of cases that lined the exterior wall. He dipped and ducked between each one, watching as the figure emerged into the room, shining a bright light around the inside. Garrett squeezed his eyes shut, tucking himself firmly against the case filled with the broken jewelry, peering through the pain to examine the easily defined figure of a police officer.

He crouched along the wall, keeping tight to the shadows as he eased closer to the doors. The officer stepped further inside, examining the opposite end of the room for any disturbances. Garrett assumed he was extra security for the night but didn’t linger long to watch. He knew the empty case would be noticed and maybe even the askew air vent if the officer was good at his job.

He felt his heart thump heavily against his ribcage as he timed his steps, waiting quietly, listening to see if the man was alone on his patrol. For every inch of ground gained, Garrett felt more anxious, the ring felt like it was vibrating within his pouch, meeting the rhythm of his own frantic heart beat. He forced his breathing to slow, only agitating the ache in his chest more and the piercing pain in his eye joined the protest of the rest of his body.

He shot a glance at the open door only a few feet away. He was so close, he could taste it. Actually, the better description would be smell it. The outer halls carried the scents from the dining room which was a good thing on Garrett’s end. As much as he’d fancy stealing a prime rib dinner, he knew if the room was nearby, so would be the access hall he used to enter the building which meant an easier escape route.

His attention was snatched away from the door when an audible growl cut through the air. He turned in time to see the officer found the empty box with its missing glass panel. Garrett clenched his jaw, shifting his weight evenly as the man reached for his radio. It was now or never. 

He darted the last stretch of space, emerging from the shadows like a spooked cat. The officer shouted after him. 

“Intruder!”

The sound of footsteps ensued as the man raced close behind. There was an explosion of noise that followed, security guards staring dumbstruck as he passed, some brandishing tasers with too short of reach, unable to move fast enough before Garrett was out of range. Cursing and yelling followed suit, the static hum of radios and the heavy beat of boots on the floor. It was almost washed out by his own pounding heart and the rush of blood in his ears. He ran, his mental map of the Museum scrambled through his head in his panicked state but the visage of a waiter coming around the corner with another cart secured his destination. He vaulted over them, clearing the cart with ease and used it to stall the pursuing officers. There were screams for him to stop and freeze, shouts of impossibilities as he dashed for the stairwell. His feet tapping softly on the metal and concrete as he all but bounced up like a flighty rabbit bursting through the door at the top.

He rounded the corner, withdrawing the claw from his hip and judged the distance down. Dropping it to hook on the ledge, he threw himself over the exterior and swung down to the ground below. For a split second, he feared he misjudged the distance of the drop, bracing himself for pain. The relief that swept through him was overshadowed by the voices up above and those that were coming around the corners of the building, guards flooding from the front entrance to pursue on foot. Too bad for them, as by the time they reached this side of the building he and the claw were long gone.

The blaring of sirens in the distance secured his suspicions as he traversed the last stretch of city that came between him and his escape. It wasn’t necessarily his best work but the inclusion of human variables always left room for additional unseen error.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was my own personal amusement of making Garrett a cat burglar, complete with the appropriate helmet for the job and his (somewhat) trusty motorcycle Erin. 
> 
> The style of motorcycle i based it on was a Kawasaki Ninja because Garrett is that extra bitch that would get something with the name Ninja in it. I thought over him having his own car or stealing one but when it came down to it, Garrett would need an easier way to out run police and pursuers and a bike can go places a police cruiser can't making escapes faster and chases shorter. Much easier to navigate than running on foot to get everywhere. 
> 
> Please leave a comment and kudos if you enjoyed the chapter. I love hearing your guy's thoughts on the story so far! It helps me with my writing in the long run and I do appreciate every bit of feedback!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	4. We're All Mad Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corvo hates his job even more, Basso is concerned about Garrett's eating habits and Garrett just wants Prime Rib.
> 
> (Seriously someone please feed this boy)
> 
> Also some more awkward Corvo/Garrett flirting.

“Tell me gentlemen.” Harlan’s voice was sharp, his eyes glaring coldly at the two men seated in his office. “How is it that this thief was able to slip inside the perimeter, be seen and still manage to escape?”

It was far too late at night for the debriefing, almost to the early grey of morning once they gathered up the people present, questioned witnesses, walked the entire expanse of the Museum for clues and took down statements from the director. There were dozens of security guards on location and yet not a single person could keep the thief from getting away. They had planned for everything in advance but the thief seemed to have planned further. 

Corvo didn’t feel inclined to answer but the silence was stifling and he was too tired to sit in this meeting, if that’s even what it could be called, any longer. It was Daud who broke the silence, his stern tone matching pace with the Lieutenant's as he explained the situation. After all, it was Daud who discovered the thief to begin with. 

“He used the ventilation system to gain access to the exhibit, disarmed all of the security measures the Museum had put in place and made it out through a maintenance door on the roof.” Daud explained swiftly, his steady tone carefully measured as he lifted grey eyes to meet Harlan’s.

The throbbing vein in their superior’s neck hadn’t gone unnoticed to Corvo’s eye as he took a moment to inspect the rigid posture of a man at his wit’s end. His eyes wild, a growl edging his voice but after a moment he retracted, straightening up. 

“You let him get away.”

“The assailant threw themselves off of the roof.” Corvo found himself speaking up in Daud’s defense. He had rounded the corner in time to see the display, half expecting to find the thief dead on the asphalt below but the man had tethered himself temporarily and slowed his descent before taking off into the maze of back alleys and roadways behind. Nothing more than the snap of a cloak in the wind and he had melted into the shadows where lamplight couldn’t reach. They combed the entire area for hours, even brought in two different K-9 units but suspected he had a getaway driver waiting somewhere along the way to hasten his escape. It was well planned out to say the least. 

“We did everything we could to find him but even the dogs ran out of leads.” He continued after a minute. 

There was something that crossed Harlan’s features, be it disgust or anger, Corvo couldn’t tell in the brief moment it flickered by. Harlan smoothed out his expression to something less giving, stoic almost. His stony expression directed at the both of them as he continued, steering the conversation away from the problem at hand to a whole new concern. 

“Mayor Northcrest is demanding answers. I have a meeting later today to discuss how the ECPD are going to handle this problem before the press can rip us apart.” He pointed out flatly before waving a hand at them. “You’re both dismissed. I expect to see you early Monday morning.”

Corvo and Daud didn’t argue or protest, simply rising to their feet and heading out the door. Corvo was tired, his eyes burning as he was greeted with the dull light of the hallway buzzing frustratingly. A headache pinched at the front of his skull, the grating noise of the lights quickly getting on his nerves. He was eager to go home and crawl into bed, hoping this fuck up will sort itself out by Monday. If not, well, then he could always look for a job in security. Apparently the firm would be hiring soon after the blunder tonight. He felt a twinge of sympathy towards the people losing their jobs over this incident. 

* * *

  
  


"Slow down Garrett." Basso's voice interrupted the ambient chatter of patrons in the little diner. The man leaned forward with his elbows on the table, a black coffee sat half drank in front of him. His bulky size fit snug in the booth, the worn thick red cushions exhaling with a rush of air at the shifting weight as he settled into them. A dark grey button up shirt was obscured in the front with a black vest, neatly cradling his husky shape, square shoulders hiding the once muscular and intimidating physique of the former boxer. His signature bowler hat was resting on the seat beside him, sun stained from exposure where it faded at the edges with the faint hint of the decorative quail feather that was slipped into the rim. 

His fingers interwoven in front of his bearded jaw, trimmed and styled in a way that hinted at businessman but still gave off the brute appearance of power. His fingers were bandaged with tiny cream colored strips where Jenivere got a little too feisty and drew blood with her beak. His hair was combed back, tucked behind his ears and out of the way, making him look slightly younger than his years as the warm light of the afternoon pooled under the diner's awnings to brighten the room. 

Garrett was stretched out in front of him, his leather jacket fit over his shoulders, finger cut gloves abandoned into the opening of his helmet as he focused on more important business. Which was the three stack of pancakes, two eggs and extra sides of bacon and hash browns that spread out across the table surface. He was half way through it, on his third cup of coffee to boot when Basso had finished his own modest plate and was on his second cup of coffee. The man had stared in astonishment that his companion hadn't yet rolled out of the booth or burst with the sheer amount of food he was packing away.

"Yer gonna make yerself sick." Basso protested when Garrett rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his coffee. His gaze hidden behind his sunglasses where they shielded him from the bright light. He sat it down with a sigh, giving Basso a stern look though it was lost on the man who couldn't see past the dark lenses.

"You say that and yet it never seems to happen." He pointed out before stabbing a large piece of pancake. He contemplated his chance of fitting it into his mouth, then, after a second, picked up his knife to cut it into smaller more manageable bites. It wasn't prime rib, but it definitely filled the empty growling that had discouraged him all night. He cursed himself for getting caught so early. Part of him wished he could have snuck into the kitchen when the waiters weren't looking and taken a tray off of the cart.

"How’d it go?" Basso’s voice was kept low, their conversation made vague as they skirted around the actual meaning of their discussion. 

"As good as it usually does." Garrett picked up a piece of bacon and relished the crisp crunch beneath his teeth. The sound rising to his ears, curling satisfaction in his belly.  _ Yeah, bacon was a close second. _ He admitted.

“I have a meetin this afternoon, I’ll send the details later tonight.” Basso added, eyeballing Garrett as he swiftly cleaned his plate and finished his last bite of bacon. His hash browns had cooled enough to shovel into his mouth. They were in the back booth of the diner which allowed Garrett to feel more at ease that nobody would be watching and honestly manners be damned in the end. He was too hungry to care. It had become normal for them, Basso being a regular and always taking up this seat in the mornings offered no questions or raised eyebrows. Garrett paused to wipe his mouth clean with a napkin as the waitress returned to top his coffee off. He nodded silently to her, already reaching for the packets of sugar in the dispenser.

“Thank ya darlin.” Basso called to the older woman, her beige skirts flowing as she turned to address her other customers, a warm smile spreading on her lips as she nodded her head. Her salt and pepper hair tied hastily into a bun and pinned with a large clip in the back which bobbed with her steps. Basso sighed, turning his attention back to Garrett with a sneer as the number of empty sugar packets steadily grew on his empty plate. He reached out to catch the thief’s hand, giving him a stern look as he moved to open another one. 

“I swear yer goin to be the death of me one of these days.” Basso informed, earning a cheeky smile from Garrett as he retracted his hand out of Basso’s calloused fingers. They easily encircled his wrist and if Basso chose to, Garrett could bet he had enough strength in his hands to break bones. He had seen it only once in his life and that was when he caught a man frisking up a lady in an alley behind a club. Garrett had met with his fence to drop off a contract and walked in on Basso teaching the man a lesson in respect. It was the one and only time he had ever seen the man get aggressive with anyone. He knew Basso’s distaste for violence. Which was ironic given his former occupation. Underground boxing matches never were his favorite place in the world and what little Garrett knew of the man’s past before they met, Basso was in a situation that warranted his talents be more of an aggressive kind. But that was a long time ago and Basso didn’t enjoy the topic of discussion. 

He drew his hand back, flattening his palms out over the surface and dusting the crumbs off carefully to pile them on Garrett’s empty plate with his discarded sugar packets. His dark eyes balancing on his thief’s tiny form pressed back into the red cushions, the abundance of stuffing protesting with quiet hisses as Garrett leaned back. His boots clicked the metal support of the table underneath. Basso figured he went home and changed out of his gear before coming to the diner. A pair of snug fit black jeans hung on his hip with a dark purple striped belt decorated with a cheshire cat buckle. Just the head grinning back at the world with unnerving inquisitive turquoise eyes.

Garrett fiddled with the spoon that stirred through his coffee before sitting it off to the side, resting on the small saucer it came on. “Anything else you need from me?” Garrett asked after a moment, returning his coffee to rest on the saucer and thumbing over the handle. His gaze slid to check the watch on his wrist, reading the digital time and noticing it was getting late in the morning and he had yet to sleep today. Basso’s shoulders sank into the cushions as he relented. 

“Nah, I got nothin for ya. I’ll shoot ya a text if somethin does come up.” He offered, watching as Garrett nodded, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. Basso raised a hand to stop him. “Get on outta here. I got the check.”

“You sure?” Garrett paused, caught between half standing as he searched his friend’s face. His brows knitted together with consideration when Basso shooed him away. 

“Yeah yeah. Get on home and get some sleep, will ya?” 

“Thanks Basso.” Garrett withdrew his hand from his back pocket and reached for his helmet at his side, sliding out of the booth with an awkward motion that earned an amused chuckle from Basso. “See you on the next one.”

“Yeah. See ya Garrett.” He watched out the windows as Garrett left, eyeing him as he made his way across the street to where his bike was parked. He slipped his sunglasses off, tucking them into his bag as he put his helmet and gloves back on. The low rumble of the bike starting up was a familiar noise that soothed Basso’s concerns as the younger man quickly joined the hustle and bustle of the morning traffic and disappearing out of sight. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Corvo yawned, eyes squinting against the bright colorful packaging that lined the cold section of the grocery store aisles. As tired as he was after catching only three hours of sleep, he had too many things to do today to spend it curled up in the warmth and comfort of his bed. Instead, he was standing in the refrigerator section staring at the numerous packages of easy to bake cookie dough, trying to figure out what kind Emily would like better. Sugar cookie, peanut butter or chocolate chip? She so helpfully left a note pinned to the fridge at home reminding him that her school was doing a picnic this week and she needed to bring cookies for her classmates.

Corvo had been standing here for nearly five minutes now and had crossed Peanut Butter off the list of potential candidates for fear of nut related allergies in the class. That now left only two. He still had a lot more shopping to do yet but he didn't want to walk halfway across the store to come back because he changed his mind. He couldn't fathom how Jessamine had handled the household, taken care of both him and Emily while also juggling her own career on top of it all. She was honestly superwoman in his opinion. 

It had been a couple years but he still found himself struggling to find a balance in all of it. Between work, babysitters, reminding himself to get groceries and paying the bills on time, let alone trying to navigate the intricate yet complicated world of young girls in school, he was struggling. He could barely navigate the relationships of his own workplace let alone trying to console an upset ten year old that her classmates views on her life didn't matter. It had been hard on Emily, he knew that. Moving not only schools but also cities. She was in a new town, a new environment surrounded by strangers. To his relief, she appeared to be making out better than he was, quickly finding a niche, making friends and diving head first into new and exciting things. All the while supporting him to get up and go out more, to socialize. He didn't realize he needed his  _ daughter  _ to hold his hand and tell him to give the world another try. He had lost himself so much in his grief that he forgot how to be a proper parent.

He sighed, dragging himself out of his thoughts as he adjusted his grip on the cart. The wheel squeaked in response, rolling back and forth as he gave up his contemplation and grabbed a tub of each. If worse comes to worse, he can make them both. If not, well, then he and Emily can sit on the couch and eat the loser all to themselves while watching America's Got Talent and making their best Simon Cowell impressions.

He turned to head down the next aisle, looking back at the list tucked in the front pocket of his button up blue and yellow flannel shirt to remind himself of what Emily wanted for her lunch bag. She had carefully written her favorite snacks in colorful gel pens that he'd gotten her for school. His eyes roaming over the sparkly purple ink that listed each off when a movement caught his eye. It wasn't so much the motion that drew his attention but the small petite figure dressed in black. He watched as they bounced on their tip toes, seconds away from climbing up the shelves with a huff of frustration.

Taking pity on the poor soul, he reached over their head to retrieve the plastic container of cheese balls that seemed to be just out of their reach. He heard the grunt of annoyance as the shorter figure, a man that Corvo realized was far too familiar, turned with what he assumed may have been a glare through the sunglasses. His brows raised in surprise as he took in the familiar scar on one cheek.

"Garrett?" He asked, holding out the plastic container to the smaller man. 

"Corvo? Wow, I almost didn't recognize you. You're not in uniform." Garrett's tone shifted to something akin to amusement, doing a double take on his attire as he accepted the plastic jar.

The blue and yellow flannel shirt was buttoned up over his broad chest, fit somewhat tight across broad shoulders and faded mildly from dozens of washes over the years. It was tucked into the rim of his jeans, a dark brown belt slipped through and worn out knees faded against the wear and tear of housework. A pair of old work boots completed a homely picture that seemed more fitting for a Home Depot ad. Garrett couldn't help the small laugh that bubbled to the surface, taking in the tiny haphazard ponytail that tied the long unruly locks out of his eyes. 

"Oh, officer, I'm afraid I need to report a crime." Garrett started. 

Corvo's brow shot up, knowing this was a jab his way but in all honesty he was curious to hear it. His lips squirmed into a smile as he spoke up. "What crime would that be?"

"That shirt." The laughter broke as Garrett reached out, pinching the open top showing the white t-shirt underneath. "It's a menace to society."

His jaw crooked, brow raised as Corvo raked his eyes over Garrett's open leather jacket. His finger hooking the strip of leather on his belt and gesturing with a flick towards the grinning Cheshire cat buckle. "And what would this be then?"

"This is style." Garrett balked, looking down at his own belt with a huff between his lips, displaying mocking offense at the question.

"I'm pretty sure my daughter wanted something like that for her birthday once."

"She sounds like a woman with excellent taste." Garrett drew, eyeing the man thoughtfully. Corvo had mentioned before in passing to Garrett, during one of their coffee shop conversations that he was recently widowed and a single father. He mentioned briefly about Jessamine but never really dropped a name. Spending more time gushing about his daughter and showing the man pictures of her. He couldn't pin why that was, typically keeping his private life to himself but something about Garrett put him at ease and helped him open up.

Emily has said so in the past that if he was ever ready to move on in life, she would respect and support him. She wanted what was best for her father and as much as it brought tears to his eyes, Corvo can't shake the feeling that letting himself move on would feel too much like abandoning Jessamine. Yet, Garrett made those fears fade away, he was easy to be around and the sniping conversation was refreshing after the stagnant days of working at the precinct, listening to his superiors bitch and criminals squawk at him about the justice system and their precious rights. Not at all taking into consideration the rights they infringed upon in harming others. The hypocrisy was sickening some days and made him question why he even stuck with the job for so long.

He hummed softly in confirmation, noticing Garrett's shifting with the over sized container of cheese balls and the scant few items in the small plastic blue basket hanging off the corner of his elbow. Garrett seemed to be doing the same as he inquired first. 

"Bake sale?" His head dipped towards the large plastic containers of cookie dough, a curious hint in his voice. Besides bread, milk and eggs, it was the only thing he had picked up so far, still slowly navigating the store.

"Ah, no actually. Emily has a school picnic and the teacher assigned her to bring cookies." He explained giving a shrug. "I'm no gourmet baker but I assume a bunch of elementary students won't mind a few short cuts."

"I don't know." Garrett teased, clicking his tongue. "If anyone knows their way around a good cookie, its kids. You might have some harsh critics." Garrett started a slow pace, walking along side Corvo as they navigated the aisles together, stopping here and there to add groceries to their baskets and continuing the idle chit chat that they both seemed to have missed in the last few days.

Corvo's stress from the last week seemed to slowly melt out of his body, his posture relaxed as he let himself smile and laugh. Garrett's own amusement felt and sounded genuine as he fiddled with the basket in his hands and stood by his side, skirting around the occasional shopper that maneuvered their way through the narrow aisles. They talked over simple mundane things, nitpicking brands, discussing recipes, tricks and tips for making certain meals that would otherwise seem daunting. Garrett was more than familiar with the bachelor lifestyle of taking care of himself. The easy tips, Corvo found, would be beneficial for planning meals for himself and Emily, especially on days when he's too tired to commit to standing over a stove to make dinner.

"Mind if I trade numbers with you?" Corvo asked as they managed to work through the rest of the store and were standing in line at the check out. 

He watched Garrett pause, thinking over the offer before relenting. He sat his basket down to fish out the tiny flip phone from his pocket, the front piece was scratched up and chipped in places, the caller ID screen was barely readable and inside, the buttons were so faded it was a wonder he could use it for texting at all. Corvo took the tiny phone in his hands, his fingers easily dwarfing it as he pecked out his number and put his name down in the new contact tab before handing it back to Garrett. The smaller man tapped out a quick message and sent it through. A minute later, Corvo's phone buzzed in his pocket with a short and sweet text.  ** _Hey its Garrett_ **

"Saved." Corvo informed, committing the new number to his contacts with a sly smile. Of course he convinced himself it was just so he could ask Garrett a few questions about the tips he gave earlier. It wasn't like he was lonely or bored, even though he lacked any friends from work and the people he used to spend his time with were in a completely different city, too buckled down in their own jobs and lives to pay him any mind.

He turned back to his cart, pushing it forward just as his turn arrived. Piling everything up on the conveyor belt, he made sure to leave space towards the end for Garrett to place his basket with a divider separating the purchases.

They fell silent for the duration of the check out, aside from mumbled thanks to the cashier as they bagged up their items and headed for the door. Corvo paused as he tucked the receipt away in his front breast pocket, watching Garrett with indecision. A warm flutter in his chest sparked as he rolled over the idea a few times. Before they could cross the threshold into the parking lot, Corvo finally mustered the courage to speak up. 

"Hey, Garrett." He watched the man go still, turning around as if spooked from his own thoughts. He couldn't tell what he was thinking, his eyes hidden behind those sunglasses that shielded him from the bright afternoon light. The warm air rushed over Corvo as they stepped out of the air conditioned building and lingered in the shade of the overhang. "I was thinking, that maybe you could let me buy you something that isn't full of sugar."

He saw Garrett's brow raise above the frames, the soft breeze rustling through his short hair making it slope awkwardly before puffing back up during a mild reprieve. "Are you asking me out for lunch?"

"Or dinner. Depending on how busy you are." Corvo corrected, feeling the heat rush over his cheeks. His stomach tightened with the anticipation of rejection, wary at what this may seem. He and Garrett hadn't exactly discussed the topic of attraction and he was going strictly off of his gut instinct here. What little signs that he had picked up over the last few months, the little gives and allowances to get closer. The way he relaxed when he noticed Corvo was near, the drop of stiff shoulders at the gentle brush of fingers against his back or the tempting glances that raked over his body. He hoped to God he hadn't misread those signs. The anticipation was killing him as Garrett remained unreadable in his stance then finally, when Corvo had considered offering an apology, he spoke. 

"I'd like that. Yes." He admitted. Corvo felt a rush of equal parts relief and excitement come over him. His lips spread into a jaw aching grin as he nodded sheepishly. 

"Alright. I'll uh, text you later to set a day." Corvo called, watching Garrett carry his bags towards his motorcycle parked down the next aisle over. He caught a glimpse of the man as he pulled on his helmet and put his bags away inside a large backpack, the yellow tinted visor gazing back at Corvo as he waved him off from where he stood at the back of his truck. His smile failed to fade, even long after he left the parking lot.


	5. Fuck Mondays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harlan is weirdly obsessed, Corvo is love struck, Daud gets roasted and Garrett hates rainy days.

Garrett stared up at the high ceilings of his apartment, watching the shadows that lurched across the far wall as the wind whipped against the balcony windows. It howled, anguished with the torment of a thousand souls calling out to him. The distant screams that curled through the back of his thoughts, sharp and piercing like a hellish whistle that lanced through his dreams and dragged him from yet another nightmare. The impression it left on his thoughts failed to fade away, even as the grey hours of morning stretched with the thick cloud coverage that blanketed the city. The oppressive heat and humidity of the days prior was lost to the cold chill lurking into every corner and crevice like scurrying rats huddled together for safety. The pelting of the rain on his windows, walls rattling with the barrage of thunder that threatened to bust down the security of his sanctuary with an unseen battering ram that quaked outwards.

He could feel the vibrations wash over his body, fingers curling tightly into the blankets as he willed the tight vice in his chest to go away. Something about it, the thunderous roll across the sky, the dark dreary faux night that haunted the world outside of his blinds, that terrified him. It made him want to curl in on himself, as if waiting, anticipating, for the moment when his roof would open up and the downpour would fill this little temporary space until he was crushed under the weight. That’s even if he manages to survive the initial drowning. The cold chill seeped over him, cooling the sweat that soaked his skin in his nightmares, the blankets scattered into disarray from wild thrashing.

He forced it away after what felt like hours. His body ached, stiff from the prolonged position. He noticed, as if some predator were lurking on the fringes of his studio apartment, he held completely still, fearing it would pounce at the slightest movement. His ragged breath picked up as he soothed the burning pain in his lungs, forcing himself onto his feet. The floors were cold under his touch as he padded over to the bathroom, dragging himself through the normalcy of routine. Brushing his teeth, washing his face with a warm wet cloth, changing out of the loose t-shirt and sweatpants that hung from his lithe form into a pair of shorts and a tighter fitting black shirt.

He retrieved a set of cushioned blue mats from his storage space sidled up beside his bathroom, withdrawing them from the very back where they rested against the wall. He flattened them out smoothly where an open space remained between the living room couch and the kitchen counter. He snatched up the television remote where it was left forgotten on the black metal coffee table beside his laptop. Clicking it on, he took a moment to scroll through the channels until it stopped on the local news station, less for the information and more for ambient background noise to block out the thunder and rain.

Feeling satisfied, he began stretching, dropping down onto the mat in a mock fall onto his back before tucking his knees against his chest. He rotated his ankles and loosened up his back with several different sets and positions, from planks to push ups to mountain climbers, to just stretching his legs and ankles, rolling his neck and shoulders to work out any knots in them. When he was satisfied, Garrett straightened up, raising his arms above his head for a few last minute cracks and pops before dropping into a crouch at the end of the mats. He leaned forward, palms out in front of him forming a triangle with his thumbs and forefingers, a slow motion full body arch forward as he pinpointed a place on the mat in front of him and in a sudden snap of movement as if the whole world fell into action, he rolled his body across the floor and landed in a crouch. He reset, this time at the other end of the mat from where he started and repeated the action. Feeling the weight of the mat roll across his shoulder blades and his feet easily slipping underneath his body, using the momentum to snap upright with hands raised like a shield in front of himself. 

He continued this for several minutes, until he felt more at ease, displacing the terrors that gripped him from his dreams. He straightened up and settled himself in the center of the mats as he closed his eyes, focusing on the easy flow of his breathing. The stable in and out, the steady rhythm of his heart pulsing in his chest. He felt the world go still around him, falling almost silent. Each step that followed was purposeful, a masterful dance with a phantom partner as he navigated them around the mats, never once stepping off of them guided by the smooth familiar glide of his bare feet on the cool padding. His hands shifting their position to match his stance, from left to right, preparing himself to anticipate the flow of movement from his ghostly opponent. Each imagined punch was deflected with a careful circular redirection, each kick was sidestepped, every bend and dip, ever breath and twitch of muscle was calculated. Well timed. Practiced with ease.

Garrett navigated an imaginary maze of ethereal attackers, sliding from one place, catching fists, leading them around into their companions, guiding them into movements and yielding in his own. Every blow was a miss, every opening became guarded. The even shifting of his weight carrying him through the circular motions of momentum and soft touch. The way of fighting without aggression, defending himself without bloodshed, disarming without compromise.

When he opened his eyes, he felt a twinge in his vision catching him off guard. A little blue light that seemed to shimmer just on his peripheral, the sneaking whispers luring him to investigate. His steadied pulse spiked suddenly, almost painfully, the ache returned in the back of his skull as he turned. The sound of the weather broadcast on the t.v had long since faded into obscurity but the volume pitched higher, drawing his attention. The blue shimmer like an ethereal glow faded as the news anchors returned with an announcement. 

An image of the ECPD logo was stretched across the upper right corner of the screen before it came into full view. The emblem of their fair little city emblazoned to the front of a wooden podium lined with microphones. Reporters gathered around Lieutenant Thadeus Harlan, a man Garrett had crossed paths with several times before but always skirting past the man’s attempts to apprehend him. Of course this was long before the man had received the fancy title of Lieutenant, back when he was an overworked and underpaid beat cop.

“In light of the events at the Stonemarket Museum, the ECPD intends on cracking down on these would-be thieves once and for all. We’ve gathered our best investigators into a task force and intend to apprehend the assailant and those that would follow in his tracks.” The man’s green eyes gleamed with something cold and dangerous that made Garrett’s stomach curl in on itself. He scoffed, forcing the unease away and reached for the remote, deciding he had better things to do than watch Harlan preen in all his glory on television like a blind peacock. He paused before changing the channels, catching in the corner of the screen, just a hint of dark hair and a strong jaw. He lingered, waiting patiently until a new angle was provided.

A brief flash of scarred skin at the side of the man’s face reminded him of the officer that interrupted him at the Museum. Unlike Harlan, this man felt like a more prominent threat to Garrett’s safety. He was inquisitive, had an air about him that made his nerves itch, like staring down a hungry wolf face to face, teeth bared tauntingly in a victory it was already certain of. A shiver raced down his spine as he helpfully flicked through the channels, looking for something more interesting than the news and whatever home improvement repeats were on. It only earned a groan from Garrett.

“I hate Monday morning television.” Giving up entirely, he turned the television off, tossed the remote back onto the couch and decided a shower would do him some good. 

* * *

Well, he wasn’t fired so Corvo considered that a win for the morning. He leaned back in his chair, sipping at the crappy coffee from the break room and contemplating rather or not he could sneak off to the coffee shop near the plaza for something with more kick. At least it wouldn’t taste like it’s been sitting in the pot all night and twice reheated. Daud claimed it was a fresh pot but Corvo had his suspicions on whether the man even knew _ how _to use a coffee pot. He even took a tip from Garrett’s book and dumped enough sugar into it to make his teeth hurt but even that didn’t stop the bitter taste from coating his tongue.

They were stuck sitting in one of the meeting rooms that were barely used, waiting quietly with the small handful of other officers that gathered, none of which Corvo really took any particular note of. Some were from his own unit and others were questionable. Corvo wondered only momentarily where Harlan had found these men. They looked just as tired and bitter about the coffee, or lack thereof. (This shit was mud. He wouldn’t call it coffee in a million years.) He stared at the mug mournfully, giving it a suspicious squint then pushed his mug aside when he caught the hint of grounds floating in it. 

_ New station rule: Daud is never allowed anywhere near the coffee pot ever again. _

Harlan had gathered them together to talk about this new task force they were being forced into. He didn’t expect it to really take off with much of a bang. From the way the man talked about this thief, upon hearing the description of his appearance, he sounded like some boogeyman for the upper class. Corvo didn’t see much threat in a man that ran around dressed like a Batman villain reject. The guy probably got a kick out of these sorts of things, maybe even a borderline kleptomaniac with a penchant for sticking it to the higher ups. He could sympathize a little with the thief but then again, it was his fault Corvo was sitting in a dreary meeting room with more men shoved in uncomfortable chairs in close proximity to one another than he’d like to be, drinking what could be considered poison from a dingy old chipped mug. 

He was really starting to second guess his sanity for not looking for another job. Maybe he was a severe masochist and he didn’t know it. That was something he didn’t feel like exploring on this shitty Monday morning. The weather was bad enough as is and Harlan was supposed to get this meeting started almost an hour ago.

He dug out his phone from his pocket, double checked to see that it was in fact on vibrate and then lingered. His thumb brushed over his texts as he read over the conversation he and Garrett had been having late last night until he fell asleep. He’d been nervous about asking the man for his number, but that momentary victory gave him enough courage to ask him on a date. (Did it still count as a date? Or was he too old for that?) The topic about said date hadn’t really come up in their texts, instead Garrett shared a few secrets about crockpot cooking that Corvo honestly appreciated. He was determined to give it a try later in the week to see how it turns out with Emily’s assistance with taste testing. 

They chatted for a long time, falling into the same ease at which they talk in person, complete with playful jabs and sarcastic banter with the addition of emojis. It was refreshing to say the least and gave Corvo a giddy feeling of excitement in the pit of his stomach, like bees humming inside, warm and syrupy, almost content like. He hadn’t stopped smiling for a good portion of the night until his eyes got too tired to stay open any longer and he knew if he didn’t get some sleep, he’d be regretting it.

That same buzz had died down this morning when he reached for his phone eager to see any new messages from Garrett. Upon finding none, he pushed it off as the man may have fallen asleep at the same time he did and just hadn’t woken up yet. Another part of him thought that maybe it was time for a new change of topic but that nagging feeling in his chest made him doubt, wondering if he was being too eager, coming off pushy or impatient.

He feared Garrett may regret swapping numbers with him, reminded of that moment of hesitance that stilled in his body at the request. The way he tensed but Corvo assumed it was due to him startling Garrett from his daydreaming. Either way, he couldn’t necessarily start a conversation now and risk leaving it hanging for the next several hours. He sighed, checked the time before tucking his phone away and waited for Harlan to arrive.

* * *

The meeting had been…..well, to put it plainly, he was starting to wonder about Harlan’s involvement in this whole ordeal. The man had come in over an hour late to a meeting he requested, pulling two large carts behind him filled dangerously full of files, reports and “evidence” all linking their mysterious thief to various crimes. All of which so far were mostly harmless thievery aside from the very small handful where guards or private security gained a black eye or were tasered upon walking in on the man at work. No casualties, no known weapons other than a taser, clean breaks into buildings with the only damage being to the security systems and all of the targets were wealthy upper class citizens or sketchy corrupt businesses drowning in capitalist privilege.

The Museum seemed to be the least of their worries as they poured over the last eight years of just the reported cases of theft. They didn’t know how many more had gone unnoticed by the authorities. In the scant few items of evidence they could find, most of them were photographs of damage from the same tools and techniques, brief glimpses of still photos from security cameras catching only a glimmer of black or a dark blur as the man darted across their field of view. Some of which Corvo wouldn’t have even recognized to be a person, assuming the blips were stray cats triggering the motion sensors. All in all, the thief was exceptional at his job.

And Harlan? He apparently had been obsessed with catching him for a very long time. Corvo could hear the edge in his voice, the particular notes of disgust intertwining with excitement as he went on for three hours about the man that had been unceremoniously dubbed the Master Thief. He left no fingerprints behind, no hair or DNA, no known tread marks in his footprints if there ever was any to start with. He always fled on foot, never any get away drivers or vehicles in waiting. And just like the Museum, not even the dogs could track him down. The man was a ghost. A specter that haunted the upper class citizens and threatened to steal all their valuables and their sense of security. 

The man was sounding less like a B-rated movie villain and more like a Robin Hood-esque anti-hero. There wasn’t a single report of him taking from poorer areas of the city. There was one incident with a church but it turned out the Priest who headed it was stealing thousands upon thousands of dollars from their parishioners and the community so Corvo figured that incident could slide.

He spent the rest of his shift pouring over files and reports, watching security videos and taking notes. It felt like being back in the Academy the more he started to think on it and that thought alone gave him a grinding headache. He was relieved when his shift did finally end, emerging from the darkened meeting room with its stench of sweaty older men and crappy stale coffee. The fresh crisp air of the rain outside was a welcome relief and he drove all the way home with the windows down, the cool air helping calm the throbbing ache in the back of his skull. He rubbed his palms over his eyes while he waited at a stop light, gently returning one hand to the steering wheel while he drummed his fingers to the soft tune playing from the radio.

His attention shifted when he heard the odd buzz of something on the passenger seat. He frowned, glancing over to where the bright light of his screen illuminated the greyscale world that shrouded the city in muted tones of darkness. A picture of Emily in a bright yellow sundress, grinning back at him from where she had perched on a park bench, colorful bushels of flowers growing all around her, looking so peaceful and vibrant. A stream of sunlight pierced the shade they had settled in for a break and gave just the right mood to the image that made her look celestial and so much like her mother. Below her smiling face was a white text bar signalling he had received one unread message from **Garrett.**

Corvo couldn’t help the smile that spread on his face as he examined his phone until the screen dimmed and returned to sleep. His gaze drew away from the screen and returned in time to notice the light changing and traffic picking up across the intersection. 

* * *

It was a strange feeling, one that conflicted inside of Garrett while he sat perched on the couch with legs tucked to his chest and a thin blanket wrapped around his waist. The warring sensation of energy, loud and buzzing throughout his body, like a direct surge of caffeine pumping into his veins. He felt wired and uncontrolled yet at the same time, sluggish and unmotivated. His eyes drooped here and there as he struggled just to give the television a moment of his attention, his mind frazzled with barely thriving thoughts circling his brain as if on an infinite bored loop until someone realizes the track has been skipping and needs to be reset or replaced. 

He blamed the peculiar weather that off set his usual routine. His head propped up against the cool leather cushions, a throw pillow tucked under his neck to brace against the arm of the couch while he boredly shoved his recently pilfered cheese balls from his snack cabinet. A bottle of gatorade rested on the floor beside the large plastic jar, easily within reach of the only hand that dared leave the warmth of the covers long enough to pop another artificial cheese covered puff ball into his mouth. He relished in the odd way it dissolved on his tongue, growing sticky against the roof of his mouth and plastering to his teeth only to be washed down with large gulps of his sports drink, repeated over the last hour until he had decimated a third of the jar and emptied his gatorade bottle. Wiping his hands off on a small sanitary dinner cloth torn free of its aluminum package, he hunkered back down into the covers and gazed out at the screen as colorful characters performed, voices nothing more than a distant hum. 

Now that the thunder was gone and he was met only with the soft patter of rain against the windows, he found it easier to relax. His nerves no longer held the tight fray that wound them painfully in his limbs like warped springs ready to explode. The ache in his head had faded easily enough, soothing over with time and with it came the quiet murmur of sleep that whispered across his thoughts. The cozy warmth sprawling him out into a puddle beneath the blanket. His toes curling into the cushions as he tilted his knees into the couch, leaning completely to one side. 

His eyes started to fall shut when the familiar vibration of his phone rumbled on the coffee table, a quiet noise to alert him. He perked up, in a way he would deny to anyone who would inquire about it, eyes wide and suddenly very much awake as he reached for the device. His fingers wrapping around the now far colder casing of his phone as he pressed the button on the side. His heart skipped a beat, expecting it to be Corvo returning his text from earlier but instead he was greeted with the bold lettering announcing the intrusion.

** _Basso._ **

It was with a heavy sigh that he resigned back to weariness. He sunk back into the couch cushions, tempted to give into the spell that lulled him. Had even began to submit as the phone rested in his lap, dangling precariously from his fingertips as his eyelids fluttered with the temptation. Still, when another buzz vibrated in his grasp, he relented and flicked his thumb up into the edge, greeted by the jarring brightness of his screen. Two unread text messages staring back at him. One was a coded message only decipherable through the program on Garrett’s laptop which the thief himself had created. The other a heads up. 

** _I have a job if you want it._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The exercises Garrett is doing are practice drills for jujitsu. 
> 
> I figured for modern day Garrett, he would need to know how to fight and jujitsu (also known as the art of soft hands) is a non-violent art that uses redirection and your opponents own momentum and weight against them. Controlling their body by utilizing their own actions and forming it into acts of defense or offense. Garrett mainly uses it to prevent from being beat up by aggressors or slip past guards that come upon him suddenly and without warning without the need to break bone or risk killing someone. 
> 
> Plus a good portion of it is self-awareness, balance and breathing which are all things he is good at.


	6. Warm Hearts, Cold Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrett hates the cold, Corvo gets a date.

It was too cold for this bullshit, Garrett had gritted and cursed through clenched teeth. He blew on his fingers to warm the tips while he waited quietly in the shadowy alcove of a condemned apartment complex already boarded over and empty of occupants and furnishings. The brickwork looked on the verge of collapse in areas, the basement sinking around the foundations, large jagged cracks in the broken concrete that threatened to trip him up. In other areas it puddled, deeper than they looked, as Garrett had found out a bit too late, feeling the icy splash soaking into his pant legs. 

He was going to have to implement a new rule with Basso, that if the weather was shit, he wasn’t doing a job. This was fucking ridiculous. Yes, his leathers were water proofed, had been tested and proven numerous times, but scouting out areas was an entirely different circumstance. He couldn’t wear his usual gear to do reconnaissance on a job and holy hell was it a pain in the ass to do so when he couldn’t even use his bike for faster transport. He didn’t fancy walking in the rain halfway across town and if Garrett gets sick from this bullshit, he’s wringing Basso’s neck.

The job, apparently, was for the building down the street away from all those condemned but not safe from the yellow tape that cordoned off the entire area as a hazard zone. They had already begun tearing up the roads between to redo them from their deep wheel wrecking pot holes and cracked concrete curbs. It was overgrown where weeds had flourished with all the occupants flushed out of the area. As far as Garrett could tell, the whole area got bought out by a big company with bigger aspirations for the place. Garrett didn’t blame them, it was a shit hole. A beautification project could really do it some good, but the company wasn’t planning on giving back to the community. They were forcing nearby occupants from their homes, trying to rid this part of town of the trash that scraped by in crappy single person dwellings and fallen apart tenant buildings. Beyond the refuse, these were good people who had lived here a long time, back when the neighborhood was thriving and lively, kids playing in the streets freely, the little shops offering fresh goods, a homely sort of place that felt nostalgic.

Garrett felt a pinching sensation in his stomach as he gazed out over the expanse, half flooded in areas where rain water pooled, swirling with clouds of trash and debris over the clogged drains. There was a small park near here, big enough for a kids play set and a pavilion. He remembered when he was younger, summers spent lounging in the shade when the heat was too much to bear and watching the other kids dare each other to slide down the scorching plastic of the slide. He sighed, reminded that the Queen of Beggars once lived here. His eyes tracked a mental map through the condemned structures until he found the large Victorian style home tucked between two smaller buildings. It had a tiny yard surrounded by a white picket fence. The gate was always open as she welcomed the youth to find shelter in her home, like the neighborhood grandmother.

When he was small and impressionable, her home looked like the lap of luxury, a place he dreamed about living in. With warmth that filled every room, bright light pooling over the sofa as he lounged into the cushions. The smell of food always drifting on the air and a table surrounded by friends and family. All of them were nameless and faceless at the time because he had no one to fill those empty seats. Even now, that dream had failed him, the imagined life had crumbled just as the house had with leaking rooftops and unsteady stairs. Even the Queen of Beggars herself, Victoria, as all the children had come to call her, was forced from her lovely abode along with the rest of the unfortunate souls.

He shivered, drawing away from the dilapidated building and pulling the zipper on his jacket up higher. His scarf kept the worst of the cold at bay from creeping down his neck. From what Garrett had heard, rumors on the wind really with a bit of help from Basso, that the contractor leading the neighborhood’s destruction was planning to turn the area into a playground for the wealthy. Tear down the eyesore buildings, put up lavish condos that would gaze out over a better more beautiful park than the one near the old Clocktower Street Plaza where Garrett lived. It would all be privatized, gated communities like up in Auldale. Maybe even a few new clubs and restaurants. The man had a lot planned for the area but the space was massive and hundreds of people were forced out onto the streets because of it. Businesses shut down, jobs lost, homes lost, and the homeless numbers spiking. 

The client wanted Garrett to put a stop to the process or at least delay it. A few choice documents that would give authorization to the work crews, the office computer that had all the payroll information for the workers. It wasn’t common that Garrett would steal from the hard working men and women, but he would give in. After all, he was making it look like the contractor was doing all the thieving from his men. A few carefully made withdrawals and the entire project would go up with public scandal and a few outraged unions.

Simple enough as it was. He shifted back into the alcove, blowing warmth on his hands as he prepared to turn in for the night. Head home, warm up and prepare for the real job ahead of him.

* * *

Corvo had gotten side tracked when he got home from work, helping Emily with her homework and the new science project she needed to work on that week all while trying to make dinner which was somewhat a disaster and a half for his kitchen. He forgot to turn the spaghetti sauce on low and put the lid on, resorting in one of many messes he had to wipe up before he could even think about heading to bed. By the time his head hit the pillow, he remembered the text message Garrett had sent him earlier that day. His fingers grabbing blindy for his phone in the dark until he could drag it off of the nightstand to take a peek. 

**Hope you’re having a better Monday than I am** _ . _

It wasn’t what he had expected but it drew a smile to his face before he grimaced at the time. It was almost midnight and he had neglected the text for nearly six hours. Part of him kicked himself for not answering it sooner and wondered if Garrett was upset by the silence at all. Maybe thinking Corvo blew him off.

He sighed, shifting so he could better answer the message, hoping to salvage what he could of the disaster that was his day. 

**We taking bets? Cause I’m thinking mine might have been worse.**

He stared at his phone screen for what felt like forever, eyes burning from the bright light despite the brightness being turned down to zero. He was about to put it away for the night, assuming Garrett had fallen asleep when it chirped at him.

**That bad huh? Wanna bitch about it over pizza some time?**

His heart fluttered in his chest like a joyous little bird, sleep burned off the edge with the jolt of nerves that brimmed beneath the surface. His fingers tapped out a message, paused, deleted it then tried again. Trying to wrangle his thoughts together long enough to consider what free time he had available. 

**Sure, how about Wednesday? Around 7? **

A few heart beats later, he realized he was holding his breath. Letting it go, he was greeted with a winking emoji and an answer. 

**Sounds good. See ya Wednesday.**

Corvo had to admit, the shitty day had gotten a bit better now. Wary of the headache that threatened to return from the brightness of his phone, he turned it off and set it to charge on his nightstand. Releasing a sigh as he stretched across the mattress, hands drumming against his chest as he let his thoughts drift. He had been excited earlier but now he was rife with nerves and self-doubt. This was a date, right? Could it be considered a date or just lunch with a friend? Well, technically dinner. Dinner with a friend. Was dinner considered a date only time period and lunch was friendly? God he didn’t know. It had been so long since he did this dating thing. He was so out of touch with it all.

When it had been him and Jessamine, they had known each other back in high school and reconnected again after a shared case. Things just blossomed between them and Corvo, for all his charm, was winging it the entire time. Jessamine made everything so fun and easy. She breathed life into his days when they were dull and, even after marriage, things had never gone stale or lost their light with her around. And she had given him the most beautiful gift in the world, and nurtured her into a bright young woman. 

His chest ached, a rough ball of emotion worming into his throat threatening to choke him. God it was so hard some days, and it was even harder still when he thought too much on it. Could this be considered him replacing her? Was it too soon to move on? It felt like it but he was so alone now. The empty space in his bed had grown so cold and not even moving towns, away from the house filled with so many memories could calm that pain in his heart. The hole her loss had left inside him. He just wanted peace for once. To be rid of the dark clouds that made it so hard to breathe some days and that fear that accompanied change. He was tired of hurting all the time. He wanted to heal and if Emily, with all her bravery, could find it in herself to move on then so could he. Then so _ should _ he.

* * *

Scratch that. Monday didn’t suck. It couldn’t compare to Tuesday. Corvo could admit that at least. He had been dragged out of bed with a phone call from Harlan demanding a gathering of the task force. Apparently they had a crime scene and a huge blunder on their hands as the news ate up every bit of it. Harlan was convinced it was the Master Thief’s doing even though this didn’t fit the thief’s pattern previously.

It was still cold outside, a drizzle kept them all tucked inside their department raincoats with the ECPD insignia on the sleeve. At least he managed to steal a decent cup of coffee on the way, sipping at the hot brew and letting it thaw his chilled body and finish waking himself up where the brisk shower failed to. His hair was already damp from the rain as they navigated the site with flashlights, careful not to disrupt any possible evidence, what little there was.

It took nearly an hour just to figure out this was, in fact, the same thief they were after. The small flat prints with no treads matched the same that had been found in the past. The same tools that picked the lock to the foreman's office, the same cutting tool to disarm the security system. Even the way the desk safe had been cracked was synonymous with their thief. The _ Master Thief, _Corvo reminded himself. The additional and most puzzling piece though involved the office computer that housed all of the files, documents and digital payroll. There was a time stamp for when it was last accessed, a log that they could bring up in the history that was left untouched.

For a man this meticulous, it was as if the thief wanted them to discover it. Corvo had spent most of the day going over the files on the computer while Daud was left to watch the last 16 hours worth of surveillance videos from the building. The rest of the group poured over the lack of fingerprints on any of the items and were back at the scene trying to utilize the K-9 unit, talking to potential witnesses about the disturbance and trying to corral the media from making it a bigger mess than it already was. Corvo noted, it seemed someone had tipped them off on the incident as the reporters sniffed around the scene looking for hints at a lead.

It was around lunch time when Daud returned from his break, the smell of cigarette smoke curling into Corvo’s nostrils as the man passed him a take out bag and pried his drink from the cardboard carrier. The other two officers that returned to help them had wandered off to their own cubicles, leaving Daud and Corvo in the meeting room alone. Corvo was relieved, already feeling a headache coming on from the constant bitching and murmuring distracting him from his own work. Daud appeared to agree, relaxing back into his seat as he resumed the video on his laptop, playing the tapes from camera number two out of the four total on scene.

The room was quiet as Corvo unwrapped his chicken sandwich and took a large bite, eyes rolling over the screen as he pulled up an older file, slowly making his way through them chronologically. He paused in between his second bite, stared at the screen then set his sandwich back down. “Hey Daud, check this out.”

Corvo heard the curious hum from the man as he paused his video and shimmied his rolling chair around the edge of the desk to settle beside Corvo. Corvo adjusted so Daud could get a better view, pointing at the series of files. Each carefully labeled and marked with dates. Some connected to emails that had been hidden. Two hours of snooping later between him and Daud, and they managed to scrounge up a decent image of what was happening. 

The man in charge of the project wasn’t stealing money from his men, no, that was a front that the thief had made to get the police to investigate further. There were no strange withdrawals made from payrolls until last night. Instead they found rather large sums of money being put into the accounts by unnamed benefactors, these deposits, when paired with the dates and times of the documents and emails, showed he was fabricating business dealings, evading taxes and on top of it all, fraudulently authorizing the destruction of buildings and neighborhoods. He was being paid by a few unnamed clients to give false reports about the structural integrity of buildings in order to force the occupants out, then paid a rather large sum of money to demolish them for future businesses to crop up in those areas. What had masqueraded as a project to better the City and the community, was just a bunch of stuck up assholes with too much money than brains trying to run the poor out of areas they deemed ideal for their businesses.

A lot of the files dated back to the last few years which honestly made his blood boil. Something similar had happened back in Dunwall that Jessamine had headed the case for. A wealthy member of the City council had paid for the building of a damn, claiming it would be beneficial for the City. The man had falsified the report that approved for the dam’s construction and when it had happened, dozens of homes had been washed out after the first big rain. The Council man claimed he had no idea the level of destruction that would follow, but the truth came to light later on that the man had anticipated it, to wash away the filth of the City and initiate cleaning up the slums.

His foul mood starting to settle as he pushed the computer away and gave his eyes a break from squinting at the screen. It didn’t last long, his palm rubbing over his eyes when Daud piped up from behind his own laptop. 

“Corvo.” A gesture of fingers curling, beckoning him closer as he nodded towards the screen. Dark eyes inspected the black and white imagery as it caught movement. Just like the stills Corvo had seen of the thief in the past, it was a small dart of shadow, a blur of black that could easily be brushed off as a spooked stray cat bolting across the screen. Switching to the third camera and scrolling down to find the right time stamp, Daud found a different angle of their thief. The black cloak draped over his shoulders shielding him from the rain as it poured, making the lens too blurry to make out any specific details. The thief hunkered down against the doorway, working the lock open with what Corvo could only assume were picks before slipping inside with quiet ease. Daud sped up the time stamp, fifteen minutes later, the thief emerged from the building with the same care as when he entered. His head on a swivel. That was when something caught their eye.

In the darkness was a pale light, peeking out from under the hood. “What is that?” Corvo inspected the screen, urging Daud to zoom in on the man with hopes of being able to make out his face, but the light obstructed the view, blurring out the rest beneath the hood.

“He’s pretty bold to be using a headlamp like that.” Daud offered but Corvo shook his head. 

“No, that’s not a headlamp. There’s no beam anywhere.” He scrolled the video back to show when the thief exited the building. There was no sign of illumination on any surface around him. Just the eerie glow that sent shivers down Corvo’s spine. It seemed unreal, like something from a monster movie. It settled at just the right spot to be considered an eye but as far as Corvo knew, no contact lens would cause that kind of shine. Maybe a false eye? But the man didn’t move like he had a blind spot. There was no guarded posturing or wariness, no hints of listing too close to corners when he moved around them.

“What the fuck?” Daud grumbled, grey eyes narrowed at the screen with a grimace. “I need a smoke.” He mumbled after, pausing the footage and rising from his seat with a groan, fingers already picking into his pocket for his pack of cigarettes. Corvo could sympathize with that. His body ached and he doubted he could feel his ass anymore from sitting in those chairs for so long. His back protested as he joined Daud, aiming for a bathroom break and a refresher of coffee. He checked the time and found they had half an hour left of their shift still. Enough time to justify a walk around the building to stretch.


	7. The Call of a Hungry Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basso lost ten years on his life automatically the moment he met Garrett. Who told him having little brothers was a good idea?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am determined to cram as many cat themed references into this fic as possible involving Garrett and nobody can stop me.

“Open up.” The gruff voice filtered into the early morning quiet, alerting Garrett to the knocking at his door and drawing the thief to his feet with catlike grace. His eyes had narrowed on the entryway, startled by the sudden intrusion before he recalled his conversation the night before with Basso. The man was stopping by to drop off his pay for both jobs early Wednesday morning.

Garrett padded bare feet across the floor, making a quick trip to cross the colder space from the living room rug to the doormat where he slipped the bolt free and opened the door. Basso was greeted with an inquisitive look as Garrett’s mismatched eyes appraised the man for a moment. Basso raised a brow at him before holding up a plastic sack in one hand clearly labeled for the bakery near Burrick street. Mouse House bakery had, in Garrett’s opinion, some of the best cinnamon rolls to ever grace this planet, which Basso knew was a quick and easy way to bribe the little thief into obedience.

The door opened wide enough to let Basso in before shutting behind his friend and stealing the bag from the man’s grasp. Basso let him, watching as the smaller man tiptoed to the kitchen to set it on the open counter space and began rummaging through his obsessively neat and organized cabinets for plates and silverware. He already had a pot of coffee brewing when he woke up not even twenty minutes earlier. Basso slipped off his boots by the door, took off his bowler hat and jacket to hang up on the coat rack on the wall, sitting it beside Garrett’s leather jacket.

His green eyes shifting back to Garrett’s lithe frame, so relaxed and dressed down in his presence, a stark difference from the profession leathers or even the rebellious look of jacket and jeans. The dark sweatpants that hung almost pitifully on the thief’s hips as if he had lost a few too many pounds for them to stay firm. His pale bare feet a stark contrast to the dark wood floors, tinged with light blue streaks under the surface giving it an almost sickly transparency. Even the light grey long sleeve shirt that swallowed him up. Basso realized, after a moment, that it was the one he got for him while on one of his business trips. 

On the front was written in black curly-Q script “_ If I cries, I lies! _ ” with a cute cartoon feline decal on the front grinning smugly with crumbs in its whiskers. On the back, when Garrett turned away to find them both a mug for their coffee, exposed the rest. _ “I was fed 10 minutes ago.” _with the decal image of a fish bone and more little crumbs littering the ground around it. Basso had gotten it for him years ago, when Garrett was alot younger and didn’t have much for fending off the winter cold. The long sleeve was faded and worn, but well cared for and used.

It was quite a long time ago, Basso remembered, that Garrett wasn’t so well off. Still just a kid picked up off the streets, lingering on the outskirts like a stray. The Queen of Beggars introduced them one night, back in her old home by the slums. Garrett was so tiny and frail, pale as a ghost and curled up on her couch to warm up from the winter chill. He nearly froze to death when Victoria found him and offered him shelter. Garrett was stubborn at first, but he warmed up quickly, in both senses of the word.

After taking him under his wing, Basso found Garrett had skills unlike any other thief he's encounter and over time, the little thief had become like a baby brother to him. A fixture now in his life and Basso couldn't imagine a single day without Garrett stirring up trouble in some capacity, as much of a pain as he was. But with time, talent and hard work, Garrett made a good life for himself. He got a nice little apartment set up, courtesy of Victoria, he worked his ass off for every job, giving nothing but the best results possible and all he asked for in return was a hot meal. Often times dismissing his payment in lieu of Basso just buying him breakfast. Of course Basso would never let that slide.

He knew Garrett kept money in odd places, squirreled away like a rodent does food for rainy days or in case he needs to hide for a while. He had a bank account that held the minimum amount possible, every couple weeks dropping five or six hundred into it as if it were a payday for the lower class. Basso knew from experience that Garrett probably had more money hidden than Mayor Northcrest's entire fortune. Especially when it came to tax time. Garrett carefully arranged all of his money to hit below the line and would get all of his money back at the end of the year, only to squirrel that away as well. 

He was smart, hid his tracks, swept away paper trails, made himself look as inconspicuous as possible. Nobody would notice, even if they were _ looking _for it. This man, who went from rags to riches but didn't show a single cent of it in his entire life. From the cheap outdated cellphone to the old worn out hand-me-downs, to shopping in the children's section half the time. Though, that last part was more amusing to Basso than anything else.

Basso has settled at the counter, slipping onto the high backed black metal bar stool while Garrett planted himself on the adjacent countertop. His legs crossed at the ankles while his feet swayed, already halfway through wolfing down one of the dozen warm gooey cinnamon rolls coated generously in icing. Basso accepted the cup of coffee left out for him and took the cinnamon roll he wanted, placing it on the plate set out and cut it up with fork and knife. He couldn't help the smile that spread on grizzled features as Garrett went all fingers on the roll, licking them clean of icing in between bites as big as his small mouth could handle. Basso swore if that boy could unhinge his jaws like a python, he'd swallow the whole thing down in one go.

He sighed after a few of his own bites, taking a sip of his coffee then decided it was time to get down to business. He reached into the front pocket of his vest and retrieved a manila envelope stuffed to its limit in cash, large bills mostly. He pushed it across the table to rest in the open. Garrett never budged from his spot, only flickering eyes to inspect the offer then returned his gaze to the last bite of his cinnamon roll and made to get a second.

"The client was very impressed with your work." Basso began, fingers wound around the black mug, thumbing over the rim thoughtfully before taking another sip. His gaze catching the small wisps of steam rising from the drink, warming his senses after the shitty dreary weather they've had the last couple days. It was supposed to clear up later today, be warmer than previously but not much else. They were starting to move into Autumn and it was only going to get colder and more unbearable from here on out. 

"The police were trying to keep a lid on the incident but the press took that tip you sent them and ran with it." He continued after a moment. Garrett had anticipated that the police force would try to silence the discovery. He had made copies of everything on that hard drive and sent out a few choice anonymous emails to prominent journalists and news stations. A bit of snooping around the scene and a few overheard conversations secured the credibility of the tip and they pushed it to the front page. In less than 24 hours, the whole city was in an uproar demanding answers. The lower class were pissed at the lies and underhanded actions, and the wealthy were clamoring for the issue to be silenced, afraid it might drag all their own dirty dealings out into the open. He imagined everyone's lawyers all woke up with headaches this morning with the sheer amount of phone calls being made.

It wasn't necessarily a heist per say, but Garrett did get an immense feeling of satisfaction of taking a man's career and reputation away from him. A reputation built on the backs of the poor no less. The addition of theft from the workers on his payroll lured out the unions to start questioning and on top of that, the IRS was digging in to investigate. Like a domino effect, everything was quickly falling into place and the ECPD were so frazzled to try and minimize the chaos that they would be in no shape to handle any further incidents regarding the Master Thief (_ yes Garrett knows of his fond moniker) _ for the next couple weeks.

"The client was so impressed they even chipped in a tip. That part was left entirely to you." Basso informed but Garrett knew the man would never take from him. Even if Garrett told him to, he would refuse and hand it off to the thief whether he wanted it or not. Basso was a businessman after all and unlike the greedy magpies that filled the offices of CEO's and conference calls, Basso didn't steal from his employees or deprive them of the hard earned reward they worked for. That, in all honesty, is bad business. It's a wonder any of these corporations remain afloat the way they handle business.

"Thanks Basso." Garrett hummed as he started on his next cinnamon roll, pausing long enough to lick his fingers clean and refill his cup of coffee, dumping enough sugar in it to make Basso cringe. As if the pastry wasn't bad enough. 

"I'm serious Garrett." He started, earning a raised brow as that foggy discolored eye settled on him, reminding Basso how much it gave him the creeps. It was eerie, looking as if it would glow in the dark, like some weird radioactive creature. "You really need to start takin better care of yerself." He gestured pointedly at the little white sugar container resting next to the coffee pot when Garrett gave him a puzzled look. Basso had grown fond of Garrett over the years, saw him as family. Of course, he was close to a lot of his thieves but not as close as he was to Garrett. Garrett held a special place in his heart, like the annoying little brother Basso never knew he needed in his life. 

After the incident, when Garrett had been found by Victoria's people and they stripped him of his gear and delivered him to the Auldale hospital, Basso thought he'd lost him. Had come really damn close to it. Garrett was touch and go for a couple days, his body temperature was dangerously low and he'd gone critical twice with Basso pacing anxiously in the waiting room. When he finally saw Garrett, one side of his face patched up with layers of gauze that made him look even paler than usual. He was so tiny and fragile in that big hospital bed. The black paint scraped off his fingernails where they attached tubes and clips to his hands and wrists, wires plastered to his chest and a breathing tube crammed down his throat.

Basso had cried, for the first time in years, he had dropped to his knees beside Garrett's bed, took his frail hand into his and cried. He never left Garrett's side for days. Despite the urging of the nurses and doctors, he refused to go far, afraid that if he did go home, if he left for even a minute, Garrett would slip away and he would lose him for good.

Thieving had its dangers, yeah. There was the risk of being caught and arrested. Of prison time. But those didn't usually include a risk of death. There was a code to these things. An oath to how it was done. To limit the risk to their health and safety. Garrett had never been in a position where he was backed against a wall and had to weigh his options of death or surrender. And every time, Basso reminded him that surrender was a far better option. Lawyers existed for a reason. They had connections, money, people that could help him get out. If he risks his life, then he can't be helped anymore. That was it. 

But this, this was too much. Basso didn't know what happened and when Garrett woke days later, neither did he. He'd been missing for days, had left for a job and was found half drowned in the river and unconscious. None of Victoria's people could find answers. They combed the river bank, searched Garrett's gear for any hint or sign of what had happened but then that came up empty. Nobody knew the answer and that terrified Basso. Had a job gone wrong? Did somebody do this to Garrett? Did something happen that the doctors couldn't see? Then there was that eye, terrifyingly warped and jagged by scars. An infection, they said. Must be. It was the only answer they could figure out. Had assumed Garrett blind in that eye but even that surprised them, when a week passed after the thief returned home and he had good sight in both eyes still. They all were dumbfounded and out of answers.

All they could settle on was that Garrett was damn lucky to be alive. The official report claimed he had been a victim of a mugging gone wrong, given his absence of belongings. The cops figured Garrett had been left for dead, not knowing that Victoria's people were the reason for the lack of personal effects and even decent clothes. He wore only his under clothes when he came in, soaked completely through from the cold of the river and reeking of the putrid mud that his body had been drenched in.

As if Garrett could see the world flickering across Basso's face, reflecting the pained expression in his eyes, he stepped closer. His hand came to rest upon Basso's, squeezed it gently in reassurance, dragging him from his thoughts. "I'm fine Basso. I'm here now and I'm alive."

There was a snort that followed from Basso, his fingers turning over to hold onto Garrett's hand and return the squeeze. It felt as if he held too firmly, the delicate bones would break beneath the surface like the hollow fragments in a bird's wings. He was gentle in his motions, reminding himself while thumbing over Garrett's pulse that yes, he was still here. Still warm and alive and causing trouble for everyone else in the city. _ What are little brothers for, eh? _

He sighed heavily, letting go and retracting his hand to grip the fading warmth of his coffee mug. "Tell that to yer heart in a few years. The way you eat, you'll drop before I do. I mean it, you need to take better care of yourself. All this sugar and shit isn't good for you." He gestured at the food laid out before them.

It was Garrett's turn to let out a snort of laughter. "You're the one who bought it." 

"Yeah, yeah don't remind me." He waved dismissively. "Ya know they sayin that youngins are just as much at risk of droppin from heart problems as us older folks?"

"Really?" Garrett challenged, taking his half eaten roll back to his counter but he didn't jump back up on it. Instead deciding to linger, legs bent and crossed as he leaned his hip against the counter comfortably. 

"Yeah, all these marathon runners and professional athletes are droppin like flies these days." Garrett rolled his eyes as he stuffed another piece of pastry into his mouth. He was only minutely disappointed that it had cooled but he could live with it for the moment. He hated seeing the look in Basso's eyes when the past snuck up on him. The pain that swirled there like he had seen great loss, a loss that only emerged every time he looked at Garrett longingly. Like the man was already a ghost walking around haunting him for the rest of his days. In all honesty, if he _ was _ haunting Basso, he'd do so more tastefully. Like stealing his hat and hiding it in hard to reach places and leave feathers lying everywhere or spooking Jenivere to squawk at odd hours of the night.

"I'll keep an eye on that then." Garrett teased with a playful smile curling his lips. He silenced himself from further conversation by tearing a piece off of his roll and pushing it into his mouth.

Basso rolled his eyes and settled back into the chair, causing it to groan with the shift in weight. "So what'd'ya got planned for today?" His voice drawled heavily with that accent that was so uniquely Basso. Like three different worlds melted together into one classically chivalrous teddy bear of a man.

Garrett shrugged his shoulders dismissively. "Nothing much. Dinner with a friend."

"Friend? What kind of friend?" Basso looked Garrett over, suspicion keenly fixed on the lithe male as he wiggled under his stern expression. Basso squinted at him as he added. "You don't have _ friends _ Garrett. Not to sound cold or nothin, ya just ain't the type."

"Ouch, my aching heart. So cruel Basso." Garrett blurted with mock pain, one hand gripping his chest as he feigned distress. "I do have friends. You count." Garrett pointed out, earning a softened expression from Basso in return. His tipped his head down, partially wishing he could hide behind the rim of his hat as he fiddled with his near empty cup. He let out a shaky sigh. 

"So this friend o'yers..." He started, voice trailing after a pause of uncertainty.

"I'm having dinner with them and nothing else. Whatever insinuations you have cooking are better left cold." Garrett quipped quickly. For all he loved Basso, the man was a mother hen at the best of times and unbearably nosey at the worst. Not that Garrett really hated it, but the constant helicopter parenting that went on when Basso thought something was amiss in Garrett's private life made it hard to have much of a private life. Maybe that was due to the fact he didn't have parents to recall of to actually be there the way Basso always was. That maybe it was harder to accept compared to people who grew up normal and happy. But that was boring in all honesty. He preferred his dysfunctional family and life. It made sure things remained interesting which was exactly how Garrett liked it. No point in living life if it wasn't worth musing over. Live for the day and make every day a challenge.

"Where'd'ya meet?" Basso asked after a moment, setting his mug aside and folding his hands in front of himself. 

"The coffee shop near the Plaza. We're both pretty regular there." He explained, taking the last bite of his pastry and sitting his plate down in the sink. He moved to wash his hands with warm water and collected Basso's empty dishes. "Been talking for a few months now." He continued.

Basso raised a brow, genuinely interested in this new stranger in his fair little Garrett's life. Who in all the world was enough to catch the thief's fancy? If they weren't covered in shiny objects, he doubted this interest would last for long. After a moment, he leaned forward, voice dropping low like he was gathering the scoop of the century. "What's the catch?" 

Garrett waved dismissively but that sly gleam in his eyes gave away the truth. Something about this person made them worth something to Garrett. Enough to spend precious time on that would be better off being neck deep in coding or planning the next big heist.

"Garrett." Basso urged as the thief busied himself with washing their dishes, turned just far enough to the side so only his eerie pale blue eye could be seen by Basso. The puckered scarring around the lids made him internally wince. He cleared his throat, folding his arms in front of his broad chest as he pried a little harder. "Come on, what's the catch? Ya know I'm gonna find out eventually if ya don't tell."

That was an understatement. Basso's ability to get information that nobody else could possibly obtain was like a superpower in its own right. Rolling around the chances of getting away scot free of giving it up, he decided against it and sighed. Basso was as relentless as a bloodhound and he hoped giving it up quickly would lessen the outrage.

"He is a police officer for the ECPD."

With the look Basso was giving Garrett, he could almost assume the older man's heart had stopped on the spot and his soul was fleeing his body via his hanging jaw. He stiffened, hands coming to rest on the counter top as he stared at Garrett, searching his expression for some tell or sign that the thief was truly and thoroughly fucking with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know canonically, Garrett isn't so touchy feely, open minded or even vulnerably sentimental but in this, I figured a lot of his behavior in the canon story line was circumstantial and a product of the hazards of his environment and his life. In Modern AU, he has no fear of being stabbed or hung just because he let himself care about somebody. With the environment he's in now, he's much more open minded, playful and easy going, especially around his loved ones. 
> 
> Also, Garrett and Food is a better love story than twilight and you can't change my mind.
> 
> Additionally - the shirt for Garrett, "If I cries, I Lies!" Was an inside joke me and my family and my friend have about my cat who would cry constantly for food any time someone entered the kitchen and try to trick the whole household into feeding her and thinking nobody else had. So when we fed her breakfast or dinner, we would put out a note that says "If she cries, she lies!" So the next person that comes in knows not to fall for her tricks and not feed her again.
> 
> With Garrett's love for food and feline related items in this, me and my friend wanted to give him a shirt with the same sentiment.


	8. Little Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basso disapproves. Garrett is a little shit and has a date with Corvo.

To say Basso hadn't taken the news well, was on all accounts, an understatement. If Garrett thought the man was paranoid before, he was borderline reluctant to let Garrett leave his own home to go out and meet a cop for dinner. He tried talking Garrett out of it, breaking ties with the man, _ anything _that most sane criminals would do when a police officer is near. Garrett simply shook his head dismissively, gave Basso a warm smile and patted him on the shoulder. "It'll be fine Basso."

"Ya say that and yet you're really playing with fire here Garrett." Basso scolded, eyes narrowing on the thief, giving his best look of disapproval that he could muster. Under any other circumstances it may have swayed Garrett away from his course of reckless actions but the delight of this relationship was too tantalizing to pass up. He enjoyed the thrill of it, the knowledge that while the ECPD were trying to find him, he was sitting down having dinner with one of their own. To be fair, Corvo was a man with a dashing personality, alluring charm and honestly, a real softy underneath that uniform. It was hard to imagine him as the cold eyed pigs that he'd crossed paths with before, mostly Harlan coming to mind with that. The lieutenant's ugly soured mug ruining his mood as he shoved it to the back of his mind, letting Corvo's warm teasing smile act as a palate cleanser. 

Garrett knew better than to admit he had even grown fond of Corvo, forming feelings for the man. It was a slow build and Garrett doubted it would go anywhere anytime soon. Plenty of time to back out if it got dangerous. He made whatever promises Basso needed from him to console his fears, reassuring him of their fall backs, the safe houses nestled out of reach of law enforcement and the safeguards for those close to the Queen of Beggars and her kin. It was the usual reminders Garrett often blew off. He wasn't reckless, he was a professional, both in his private life and while on the job. He knew exactly what he was getting himself into and knew the warning signs should any arise. He wasn't going to be ambushed on the spot just for having pizza with a beat cop.

It took nearly an hour for Garrett to distract Basso and finally get the fence to leave of his own accord, promising he would message him later and keep him updated on his well being. He slipped a few inquiries into the conversation about more jobs but Basso was wise to Garrett's games and skirted back to the problem at hand. When he did finally leave, Garrett was exhausted. The ache behind his discolored eye throbbed painfully and the dull thud of a headache coming on reminded him that he had yet to properly sleep. Setting the alarm on his phone to wake him up, he did one last sweep of the kitchen to ensure nothing was out of place then crawled under the covers for the offered warmth.

* * *

Luckily enough, the weather had cleared up some. It was still cold and windy out, the dampness clinging to Garrett even as he carefully maneuvered Erin through the city streets towards Stonemarket. He had a couple abrupt red lights that caught him off guard and honestly made him paranoid about the roads and their slipperiness under his tires, taking his sweet time to get there. He did a good job of leaving forty-five minutes earlier just to account for traffic back ups and weather problems. 

When he arrived, he pulled up to the curb side, carefully navigated along the edge to the parking lot tucked behind the building itself where other vehicles were nestled out of the way. He slipped his helmet off, replaced his sunglasses underneath and surveyed the sidewalk. He tucked his helmet under his arm, boots tapping down the concrete path lined with wooden pots of flowers planted by the City. The occasional tree loomed over head, shedding leaves as they slowly started to turn in the colder weather.

Several store fronts were preparing to close up for the night, dimming the lights in their windows and turning their signs over. The bar across the street was beginning to get busier, along with a handful of other little restaurants along the way. Garrett walked the three buildings down to where a small patio greeted him. The umbrellas were tied up and the tables still dotted in the sprinkling of rain from the morning. The warm smell of a brick oven fire greeted him as he crossed the threshold into the brighter lights of the interior.

His stomach rumbled as a waitress walked by with a tray of cheesy bread and drinks, heading to a large gathering of tables where a family of eight sat chattering loudly among each other. The door opened at his back, the cold breeze skirting into the entryway and ghosting over the exposed back of his neck. He shivered, looking back in time to catch the pleased smile framed by dark hazelnut strands falling haphazardly around his strong features.

"You didn't wait long I hope." Corvo greeted, earning a smile of greeting back from Garrett. 

"Actually I just got here." He gave a little shrug as a waitress greeted them, asking the number of people and their preference of booth or table. Garrett gestured for the larger man to take the lead and before long, they were being guided back to a side booth near the windows.

"Traffic was crazy." Garrett admitted as they slid into their seats, accepting the menus offered as the waitress rushed over to a nearby table where an older woman flagged her down with an inquiry.

"Yeah, there are accidents all over the city. It's like people forget how to drive in bad weather." Corvo remained on his feet, tugging the dark carhartt over his shoulders to fold up and sit beside him. The jeans he had worn today were less faded with a proper belt this time and his boots a little more spruced up. Garrett wondered if he shined them up since their last meeting. But his curious gaze was taken by the dark short sleeve shirt underneath. A large red circle covered in intricate designs and script with a prominent black winged bird of some kind stamped in the center. Garrett raised a brow, a look all too apparent even with sunglasses on that Corvo couldn't ignore as he slid into his seat. 

"What?" He asked in confusion. 

"Really? Red Hot Chili Peppers?" Garrett's voice was tinged with a combination of amusement and a mockery of disgust.

It was Corvo's turn to raise a brow, challenging him in return. "And what kind of music do you listen to?" Corvo was rewarded with Garrett unzipping his coat to expose the AC/DC Highway to Hell long sleeve he had on underneath. It was worn out and faded from being washed so many times but he loved it and honestly forgot to do laundry with how busy he was lately. He lucked out that he even had anything warm to wear.

"Ugh, I should have known." Corvo's feign of offense followed with a faux disappointed sag in his shoulders. His fingers fiddled with the menu laid before him, caught between eyeing Garrett's smug expression. 

"Why? Cause they're legendary and the best band ever?" He prodded, turning the menu over to read the offered drinks. There was a scoff from Corvo who smiled back at Garrett while they both perused the menu. As if on cue, their waitress returned from the adjacent table and put on her best smile as she inquired about drinks. 

"I'll have a Dr.Pepper please." Corvo spoke up first, looking towards Garrett who appeared indecisive. Without looking up, he answered. 

"A Sunkist for me please." The waitress wrote down the drinks and left, giving the men more time to figure out what they wanted.

"So, what other atrocities in music do you enjoy?" Garrett began, sitting his menu down to stare at the man across from him, taking in how the warm light of the booth accentuated his handsome features. The small hints of stubble growing in from a missed day of shaving leaving a subtle dark stretch along his jawline. The dip of shadows that made his cheekbones more prominent. '_ Fuck! He's hot!' _ Garrett screamed inwardly, thinking over the warning directed at him earlier that morning. How he placated Basso with fuzzy promises not to get too deep into it with Mr.ECPD. Of course Basso didn't know the nature of Garrett's attraction to the man. How the low rumble of his voice in the early hours of the morning made his body tremble, the jolts of excitement that flushed his cheeks late at night when the odd dream came around with the aforementioned officer cloaked in the shadows of his bedroom, looming over him like a hungry wolf.

It was so hard not to get entangled in this man when they already had been weaving in and out of each others lives so much. They'd spoken so often, shared stories and plights. Hell, Garrett had a hard time remembering this man was the enemy to his professional life, when they'd fall into deep conversations about life's problems or something as mundane as how to cook with a crockpot.

Garrett was brought out of his thoughts as Corvo spoke up, the soft lull of conversation around the restaurant interwoven with the faint notes of music playing from the speakers. The local radio station playing the top hits though Garrett couldn’t figure out what theme the station was. “Hm...I don’t know about _ atrocities _but I do enjoy Blue Oyster Cult and Aerosmith.”

Garrett smirked, leaning back in the large green cushions of the booth as they hissed under his weight. The waitress returned with their drinks, dropping two straws between them and taking their order. Garrett and Corvo looked at one another, briefly discussed it, asking the waitress questions before settling on an extra large meat lovers pizza with a side of garlic cheesy bread as an appetizer. She gathered their menus up and whisked away to put in their order. Garrett already plucked his straw up, slipping it into his drink and folding the paper sleeve it was in, into a tiny neat square. 

“Good to know you do have _ some _ taste after all.” He teased before taking a long drink of his Sunkist. “Aerosmith’s _ Dream On _is legendary.” He preened. “I don’t think I know anyone who doesn’t like their music.”

Corvo dropped his own straw into his drink and stirred the ice around thoughtfully, giving a nod of approval. “I got to see them in concert when I was younger.” Corvo’s voice rumbled, eyeing up Garrett who stared back in disbelief, giving him a sideways look as he stole the abandoned paper sleeve from Corvo’s straw and repeated the act of folding it down neatly.

“No shit. Really?” 

“Yeah, it was hot as hell though but so worth it. Even got Steven Tyler’s autograph.” Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t rightfully recall where it had gone in all the times he had moved around. That was a long time ago and he internally winced just thinking about it. He was such a mess back then, some bright eyed kid fresh from the Academy with so many aspirations riding on his shoulders. The world looked so different back then, so lively and fresh.

“That must have been crazy. I’m jealous.” Garrett leaned against the table, his arms folded, propping himself up. “I had a chance to go see a Green Day concert when I was in high school.” He shrugged his shoulders, watching Corvo wrinkle his nose up at that. “What?”

“Green Day? Really?”

“Hey, Green Day is great. That and Fall Out Boy were like my go to high school playlist.”

“Oh don’t even remind me of high school playlists.” Corvo groaned, shaking his head. “I came from the era of mixed tapes.” Garrett grimaced sympathetically, reaching a hand out to pat Corvo’s arm. 

“Don’t worry. The guy who raised me lives off of vinyl records. Mixed tapes at least, are a step up.” He assured, watching Corvo’s dark eyes raise at that. A slight tilt of the head made Garrett cringe internally. A slip of his words. This was the first time he had ever hinted at family, despite all the times Corvo had gushed about his daughter to him. It wasn’t that it was a touchy topic for Garrett, he loved Basso like the weirdly obsessive parental figure he was, but given his profession, it wasn’t wise to be divulging such intimate details about one's life. And just like that, he could hear Basso’s voice ringing in his ears and the scolding he would get if the man overheard.

“I see.” Corvo started, wary of the subject laid before him. He knew from experience with kids on the streets, how family situations can be so bleak at times. He was conflicted, between wanting to know more about Garrett from what little he kept guarded to his chest. The way he danced around topics and brushed others off with an extra layer of sarcasm or badly placed jokes. He was careful about them. Corvo’s heart ached for the man, felt the silence start to spread out awkwardly between with only the lull of the music playing on the speakers above. The boisterous group in the corner, at a quick glance, had left. Another waitress was already clearing away the mess they left behind. A brief scan of the room and Corvo was relieved to see their waitress returning with their appetizer. She laid out two plates in front of them and set a wooden rack covered in piping hot cheese bread and two small cups of marinara sauce on the side.

She quickly informed them of their wait for their pizza before heading off. Garrett looked thankful for the interruption as they plated their own pieces and started eating. The smaller man was only two sticks into the large platter when he finally spoke up, breaking the quiet while he wiped his mouth and fingers with a napkin. 

“Basso.” Garrett started. After rolling it around in his head, he knew if Corvo genuinely wanted to know the answer, he could easily look it up on Garrett’s file. Being a kid in the system wasn’t easy to escape and there wasn’t any chance he could erase that paper trail without raising massive red flags. So instead, he limited it as much as possible. “Basso found me when I was a teenager. He took me in and gave me a home and was the closest thing to family I had.” He shrugged his shoulders. “He was good to me and encouraged me to be a better person. He wanted me to have a better future for myself.”

Corvo was quiet, watching as Garrett slowly relaxed in his seat, lessening the stiffness that had formed during their silence. His lips curled up into a small smile, this time his hand reached out to rest on Garrett’s hand, warm fingers circling his knuckles in the briefest of touches. “He sounds like a good man.”

Garrett nodded, giving a little chuckle. “Yeah, sometimes he’s a pain in my ass.” A raised brow from Corvo earn an elaboration. Garrett continued as he reached for two more pieces of cheese bread. “He’s a bit of a mother hen sometimes. He’s never really had anyone that relied on him before other than his pet bird so I guess he’s trying his best with what he knows.”

Corvo nodded. “I can sympathize with that. Being a parent out of the blue, especially a single parent is a daunting task.” He sighed, stealing another piece of cheese bread from Garrett’s fingertips before he could snatch it up. He stuck his tongue out pointedly as Garrett pouted, forced to reach across the table for the far end of the platter. 

“Fuck you and your unfairly long arms.” Corvo burst out with a laugh as Garrett hoarded his cheese bread on his plate like the little gremlin he was. He took a long draught of his drink in between bites before sitting back in his seat, wiping his fingers clean with a napkin. “How’s work been?”

The audible groan that threatened to bubble up was not lost to Garrett as he observed the officer through the dark lenses of his glasses. Corvo wiped his mouth with a napkin and swallowed down the last few bites of his bread. “Busy. Everyone’s scrambling around with these latest thefts going on.” He gave a half hearted shrug with his shoulders as he set his plate aside. “My schedule is all over the place now because of it. I lucked out today that I could even make it off on time.” 

“Damn.” Garrett hummed, fiddling with his straw as he stabbed idly at the ice gathered in the bottom of his nearly empty drink. “I saw some of the stuff on the news.” Corvo nodded. 

“Yeah.” He dusted off the surface around himself, glancing up when movement caught both their eyes. The waitress returned with the large circular wooden board carrying their pizza. A spatula shoved under one side, already coated in gooey cheese. The smell was heavenly to Garrett’s nostrils. She collected the empty cheese bread platter and whisked away to get them drink refills, returning quickly as Garrett tried to maneuver the large slices onto his plate.

“Thank you Miss.” Corvo called before she headed to another set of tables. It was starting to get lively again, folks filing in from the cold weather seeking warmth and good food. Corvo picked up his slice and balanced it out on his large palms, leaning over his plate a little to keep any cheese from dripping from the edges to his shirt. He caught Garrett folding his in half like a taco and going all in. He muffled the sound of amusement, their conversation halting in lieu of enjoying their food.

They continued their conversation, talking about embarrassing stories from their youth, many of which involved school and the many ways to end up in the Principal’s office. They joked and laughed until Garrett couldn’t breath and Corvo had tears in his eyes. The officer grinned until his jaw ached and his shoulders felt like putty, they bantered back and forth, talked about favorite movies and terrible acting. A few times had both of them mimicking the scenes, steadily growing louder over time with the raucous of the restaurant before quieting down some. Garrett relaxed back into the cushions of the booth, on his third drink and Corvo on his fourth, the table had been cleared of their empty pizza platter. Corvo was shocked by the sheer amount of food Garrett had put away. 

“You sure you don’t have a tapeworm or something?” Corvo folded his arms against the table, waiting for their dessert to come when the waitress had refilled their drinks. 

Garrett sipped at his and gave a wry smile. His brows raised as he relented another tidbit of personal information. “Actually, Basso had been convinced I had one when I was younger. Had me checked out _ twice _at the hospital but they couldn’t find anything.” He gave a dismissive wave, “Just a higher rate of burning off what I eat.”

Corvo chuckled. “Wish I had that. I had heard about the freshman fifteen in college but mine was more like the freshman fifty. It felt like forever when I entered the Academy to get back in shape.” Corvo’s face warmed when he noticed the way Garrett looked at him, the slight tilt of his head that told him the smaller man was looking him over. He didn’t need to see his eyes to feel his gaze drinking him in with a subtle sort of appreciation that made Corvo buzz with a light headed excitement. Or maybe that was from all the laughing earlier? He couldn’t tell.

He nearly startled when a sound filled the air, suddenly and sharply. It took both of them to realize it was a song playing, as Garrett fished his flip phone out of his pocket. The song ‘_ Go Ask Alice’ _ playing on his ringtone as he glanced at the name and sighed. Flicking it open, Garrett spoke with the strongest wave of sarcasm that made Corvo cringe. 

_ “Hi _ ** _Dad!_ **” The shit eating grin that spread across the man’s face was irresistible as he listened to the voice on the other end. Corvo could already assume who it was and he expected Basso might have a few choice words to say over that greeting. Any parent (or parental figure) would. “Last I checked I didn’t have a curfew.” Garrett added after a moment.

“I’m still at dinner.” Garrett nodded his head side to side, as if bobbing to a song in the background. Corvo listened in and caught the end of Johnny Cash’s _ One Piece At A Time _ playing through the speakers. “I told you I’d text you when I got home.” He added, fingers drumming quietly on the table top. The waitress approached, seeing Garrett was on the phone, she was quiet as she laid out a new platter with a large chocolate chip cookie the size of a small pizza. It was cut into slices like one, the warm chocolate oozing out. She disappeared around the corner of booths to tend to another table. 

“I gotta go, I’ll text you before I leave alright? Alright. See ya.” He closed his phone, ending the call and stuffing it into his pocket.

“You’re so dead.” Corvo pointed out, watching Garrett’s face light up as he reached for a piece of the cookie. That self-satisfied smile never leaving his face. 

“Oh I know but that’s what makes it so fun.” He chuckled, before sinking his teeth into the warm cookie. Chocolate seeped out where he was holding it and dripped onto his fingers.

“By the way, where’s Emily?” Garrett asked between bites, glancing up to give Corvo his utmost attention. 

“At the babysitter’s. I gotta pick her up on the way home.” 

“You guys don’t have any family in the city?” Garrett worked through the last couple bites of his piece before moving on to a second. 

Corvo shook his head. “My wife’s side of the family all lives out of state. We never really talked to them to begin with and I don’t have any family left on my side. It's just me and Emily.” 

“I’m sorry. That’s rough.” Garrett admitted. 

“We make by.” He added, taking another piece of cookie as the pair steadily worked through their meal. The conversation moved onto lighter topics as Garrett inquired how the cookies went for the picnic. Corvo was forced to acknowledge that they made both batches but mainly because the chocolate chip ones got a little too crispy in the oven. He had forgotten to set the timer and they were a very dark brown when he remembered to check them. Round two involved the sugar cookies and with Emily’s help, they turned out unscathed. Which was a bonus for them because they got to eat the chocolate chips all to themselves. 

“Oh, what a tragedy.” Garrett’s mock theatrics drew a laugh from Corvo while they cleaned up the platter and waited for the check. Garrett was already digging out his wallet when Corvo moved to stop him.

“I got this.”

Garrett raised a brow and shook his head. “Let me at least pay half.” He offered, giving the officer a look that showed he refused to be allowed any less so Corvo relented. They split it down the middle at Garrett’s urging and swept up their belongings. Corvo groaned as he pulled his jacket back on, taking a moment to stretch his back and shoulders out. Garrett flexed his legs and gathered up his helmet and riding gloves, giving his stomach a gentle pat in appreciation. 

“I haven’t eaten that much pizza in a while.” He sighed, giving his neck a little roll, greeted with a small pop and another pleasant groan. 

“Where did you park at?” Corvo asked, following behind Garrett as they stepped out into the night. It was pitch black aside from the street lamps but a slow fog was moving in off the banks of the river. It would take a while for Garrett to navigate his way home along his usual routes. 

“Behind the hair salon.” He pointed down the street where the faint glow of the corner post lit up the front windows of the salon. The golden lettering on the glass glistening with dampness. Garrett cursed silently, wondering if it had rained while they were having dinner. 

“Let me walk with you.” 

“Where did you park?” He swiveled back to look at the looming figure of the officer. In the dark like this, it was easy to mistake Corvo as intimidating. Having known the man for so long though, Garrett found it hard to associate the man who lights up and turns to mush over talking about his daughter and her accomplishments, making bad jokes and failing at making ready to bake cookies as being a big bad monster lurking in the darkest corners of the City. It was hard to imagine him as being the enemy.

"I'm down the street by the auto shop." Corvo hiked his thumb over his shoulder pointing back down the street. Garrett could just make out the dull yellow sign promoting new deals on oil changes and tire rotations.

"Uh-huh." He clicked his tongue. "You got a long walk ahead of you. I'll be fine."

Corvo patted his stomach in answer. "It'll do me some good to work off that meal." The cheeky smile was irresistible causing Garrett to begrudgingly retreat. He bobbed his head in a jerky motion. 

"Alright."

The walk wasn't far and the night was quiet. There were less cars on the streets as most of the city life had already settled in at their desired places to be or had held up at home, avoiding the dreary cold that seeped into their bones. Deeper in the city, traffic would be a mess where all the clubs and major bars would be. This part of the neighborhood was quieter, more family oriented with the friendly eateries and sports bars. Not the type of area for drunkards to wander willy nilly without being ushered off to the nearest taxi or ride share.

Garrett stopped at the mouth of the parking lot, turning to face Corvo who nearly bumped into him. "My bike is just a few rows over." He gave a half hearted nod towards the parking lot. It was scantily lit by one faintly glowing lamp light at the entrance and a sickly yellow light on the far wall at the opposite end. Shadows lurked between the vehicles like monsters in waiting. The wind picked up, blowing at the back of Corvo's neck, sending unsettling chills down his spine as he shifted his boots on the concrete. 

"Drive safe alright. Send me a text so I know you got home safe."

"Will do." The small smile that curled Garrett's lips was enticing but Corvo knew better than to push his luck on a first date.

"I'll see you later then." Corvo started to turn, uncertain at first before second guessing and forcing himself away before he could say something stupid. He tossed a glance over his shoulder and saw Garrett already putting his gloves on and walking into the parking lot. Corvo made it to the corner by the Salon when he jolted in surprise. Garrett's voice echoed off the walls of the surrounding buildings, sending a rush of ice water through Corvo's veins. Corvo's heart thundered in his chest as he recognized the man's scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am jam packing as many Alice in Wonderland reference with Garrett as possible. He honestly reminds me of the Cheshire Cat, with that moonlight grin that fades into the darkness. Now you see him, then you don't. How easily he flits from place to place with that playfulness and sarcasm that is so uniquely him. 
> 
> Which also makes me think of Basso as the Mad Hatter, encouraging his crazy antics. 
> 
> Maybe one day I'll write a wonderland AU for these two. We'll see! For now I hope you enjoyed another installment of Hydrophobia!
> 
> Please, if you liked it, leave a comment below. I really appreciate the thoughts and feedback.


	9. Do Cat Burglars Have Nine Lives?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit gets real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I had a super busy weekend and couldn't get the time or peace and quiet to jump on my laptop and update the next chapter. 
> 
> I really appreciate the comments and feedback you guys have given me on this so far! It means so much to me and encourages me to keep on dishing out chapters! 
> 
> I hope you all stick around because there is still a lot more to this story and I have a lot planned to come!

The world fell silent, lapsing into a frozen grey scale replica as fear gripped Corvo like a vice. The thunderous beat of his heart and the sinking heavy pit in his chest threatened to buckle him beneath the pressure as if the world were a bow string drawn taut, on the verge of snapping back into place and shattering the supports that held it there. His mind racing with every heavy foot step that inched him closer to the parking lot. 

He felt as if he were wrenched away from the world and the reality that grounded him and shoved back into the pale blue light of his living room. His body sagged tiredly against the couch cushions as he stared, bleary eyed at the television screen waiting for Jessamine to return home. The orange glow of car lights pulling into the driveway signalling her return. The quiet sleepy steps as he pushed himself to his feet to greet her at the door when a gunshot rang out. The ear shattering screams that sliced through the quiet night of the suburban neighborhood as a final shot soaked their peaceful little life in blood. 

Visions of her body writhing on the concrete of their driveway, files strewn across the front lawn as neighbors scurried about, lights flickering on and phones ringing for the police as his trembling hands tried to cover the injury. Blood gurgling up between his fingers, warm and wrong under his touch. The terror in her eyes as she struggled for breath, the sucking pulse and sickly rasp of a punctured lung.

The world as he knew it, shattered in seconds. Stolen away from him without any warning or remorse. He panicked, didn’t even see the assailant as they easily fled into the shadows and vanished from sight, as just the beginning of their elusive existence. He wasn’t good enough back then, and he’ll be damned if he lost another person now.

He rounded the corner, dark eyes scanning the parking lot when he caught sight of movement. The clatter of a metal tool falling to the ground as a figure cloaked in black garments scurried away in a panic. Garrett’s helmet left lying on the ground as the smaller man almost seemed to dance around his opponent, ducking and weaving past punches before the assailant retreated away only to be grabbed by the wrist and pulled into a circular motion, thrown towards Corvo. The man landed at the officer’s feet with a groan, clothing ridden up on the asphalt as Garrett stood in front of Corvo, panting heavily. He shifted on his feet, looking down at the man that tried to get back up but Corvo was quick to pin him back down, switching into work mode as he fixed the man’s arms behind his back and paused, realizing he didn’t have any handcuffs on him, he settled for holding the man in place. 

“What happened here?” He tried to calm his racing heart, the rush of blood pounding in his ears settling with every steady breath. His voice turning hard with the tendrils of his job slipping into his posture, the firmness of his shoulders and wary edge to his body as he maneuvered the man appropriately. The shadow of an intimidating force of power flooding his limbs, the phantom visage of the man criminal knew to fear.

“I caught him trying to strip my bike.” Garrett shifted back, voice breathy as he pointed back towards the parking lot, gesturing where the metal tool and the helmet lay on the ground. “He swung on me with a tire iron. There are more tools on the ground beside it.” Garrett folded his arms around himself, fingers fidgeting with uncertainty of where to go, a slight tremble spread throughout his body with the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Corvo nodded, glancing towards Garrett as he cursed. “I can’t reach my phone like this, could you call 9-1-1 for me and tell them its Officer Attano?”

Garrett nodded, digging into his pocket with shaky hands, fingers fussing with the keypad on his phone and waiting quietly. He switched it to speaker phone when the dispatcher answered and let Corvo talk with them. It was a surprisingly quick response on the police’s part but then again, it usually was when it involved one of their own. The man that emerged from the cruiser was one Garrett recognized from Harlan’s press conference as well as the Museum exhibit. This was the same officer that chased him to the roof. Garrett felt a twinge of concern weave inside his stomach, nerves surfacing as he hoped the man wouldn’t recognize him. Of course it would be impossible given the fact he had his face hidden, but still, there was always a danger to these sorts of encounters. The off chance that someone was a lot better at their job than they may look and this Officer Daud appeared positively dangerous.

Garrett shifted unsteadily where he stood, leaning up against the wall with arms crossed. His fingers stuffed into the crook of his elbows to warm them. Even with his riding gloves on, the evening chill was getting to him and he had even zipped his jacket all the way up and dug out his scarf from the pack on his bike. His face half covered as he tried to warm up and somewhat hide from view in the scant shadows offered in the cruiser headlights.

Corvo had the thief sitting on the ground after having a nice long chat about how he was going to keep his hands right where he could see them or else risk being put in another compromising position. Only to Garrett, it sounded far nicer.

“Daud.” Corvo greeted the man, giving him a brief shake of the hand as he inspected the uniform with a wince. “I didn’t realize you were working a double.”

“Neither did I but two people called in sick and they were short a patrol unit.” His voice drawled quietly. He looked exhausted. Corvo couldn’t blame him. “Harlan was going to call you in but I figured you’d be spending time with your daughter.” His steely gaze fixed on Garrett, a subtle crook to his jaw and the slightest raise of a brow secured what Garrett suspected was going through the man’s mind. “Or maybe not.”

Corvo looked almost bashful in front of his coworker as he fidgeted with the hood of his coat to block the wind that picked up. Daud handcuffed the assailant and guided him into the back of the cruiser where he could at least warm up. Garrett was momentarily jealous of the man before thinking better of his thoughts. The temperature was dropping and he wasn’t prepared for an all nighter. He wished he was safely tucked into the insulated embrace of his leathers right now. He wasn’t anticipating the ride back to his apartment and wondered if he could shoot over to Basso’s instead. It would cut the distance in half but also meant answering the man’s twenty million questions and honestly Garrett just wanted to sleep in his own bed.

He squinted against the flashing blue and red lights, cursing the brightness as it stung his weary eyes. He fidgeted while Corvo explained what had happened to Daud, the man’s gaze only wavering from the paperwork at hand in short intervals as if in response to what Corvo had said, that steely gaze fixed on him with indifference. It sent chills down Garrett’s spine and it wasn’t the cold doing it. At least, he didn’t think so. Something about that man unnerved him. The chiseled scarring seared into one side of his face brought a burning reminder of Garrett’s own jagged wound. He resisted the urge to rub at his cheek, ignoring the stinging sensation that settled at the back of his discolored eye.

His attention was stolen when Corvo called his name and waved him over. He tipped his head down, inspecting the ground thoughtfully, catching the shine of the lights on the toes of his boots where they had been scuffed. He fluffed himself up inside his jacket, hunkering back down to shield himself from the wind that curled underneath despite his best attempts to avoid it.

“Just to corroborate your story, why don’t you tell me what happened.” Daud spoke up, his tone hinting that it wasn’t a request as he turned his gaze solely on Garrett. The smaller man felt the looming presence of Corvo at his back, maybe in a show of support or an offering of reassurance. The gentlest brush of a hand at his back proved the latter, but it only made the tight spasming of Garrett’s back worse with the cold sneaking in.

He let out a shivering sigh and gestured with a tilt of his head towards his bike. “I came around the corner and heard something like metal hit the ground. I couldn’t see very well so I kept going and found that guy knelt beside my bike taking a bunch of tools to it. It was obvious he was trying to strip it for parts.” He pointed out, looking back at the cruiser now where the man scowled at them out the window.

“Officer Attano said that you engaged the thief.” Daud coaxed towards the later details, earning a nod from Garrett.

“I yelled at him, trying to spook him off but he swung a tire iron at me. I didn’t want to risk getting jumped so I took him down before he could take me down.” He hunched his shoulders up, folding his arms tighter around himself as if protectively. Daud’s gaze raised presumably to check with Corvo who nodded in confirmation to the story. 

“Alright. Officer Attano, if you would please?” Daud gestured for Corvo to follow him back to the cruiser where they started talking in low tones, almost hushed. Garrett narrowed his eyes, felt the world pull tight around him like the spidery embrace of a web, layering over his shoulders and folding over his thoughts. He blinked as it shifted into a faint blue-ish white context, the cruiser lights becoming muted and dull tones that pulsed back and forth. The ache behind Garrett’s eye grew stronger as Daud himself seemed to radiate energy. Like the faint shimmering aura Garrett had seen on the television during Harlan’s conference. After a moment, that same shine seemed to flow outward from Corvo as well though it appeared muffled, like a fog had encircled him.

His heart picked up, racing in his chest with a heavier thump that ached. He could make out a few words that filtered from their conversation. 

Corvo’s voice. 

_ ….mugged in the past…….victim…..lighten up…. _

Daud stared at his counterpart unblinking as if conflicted with his decision. A few seconds later the world fell back into place and Garrett felt the strength flood out of him. He stumbled a step forward, knees slightly bent as he caught himself, one hand extended as the world swam around him. The piercing pain in the back of his skull was like a hot lance through his eye, drawing a hand to cover it. Garrett wasn’t aware of Corvo’s approach until he felt a hand drop to his shoulder. He jolted, stumbling back into the strong arm that caught him from toppling over the other direction. Concerned brown eyes gazing down at him, Daud looming just over Corvo’s shoulder with a softened expression on his face. 

“Are you alright?” The syrupy flavor of worry soaked through Corvo’s voice and almost made Garrett laugh, a nervous strained sound that rose in his throat. 

“I uh, yeah. I’m still a little shaken up is all.” He admitted quietly, resting a hand on Corvo’s forearm, a passive exchange that only made the officer pull him tighter. It was only when Daud cleared his throat that Corvo straightened up and relaxed. His hand resting lazily on Garrett’s shoulder now, as if removing it would mean letting him crumple to the ground.

“I just need to take a few photos of the scene and I’ll let you two be on your way.” Daud explained, setting the paperwork down on the hood of the cruiser and using his phone and flashlight to get a good view on all sides. He got a glimpse even of a small white symbol painted near the ignition of the bike, just a few inches below on the smooth black paneling. It was shaped like the outline of a mouse or a rat with a tiny crown sitting askew atop its head. He raised a brow at the symbol, feeling something akin to familiarity with the shape and decided to tuck it into the back of his mind for later. He turned his attention back to the rest of his task. Even taking a quick picture of where Garrett’s helmet had fallen with the tire iron. Daud paused, giving it a look over before flashing his light on the abandoned headgear. 

“What happened here?” He called, looking towards Garrett as he held up the helmet. Garrett frowned, puzzled at first as he approached, leaving the comfort of Corvo’s presence. 

He barely concealed the curse that fled his lips when he saw his visor had been shattered. A white streak scratched the black body of the helmet. “That’s where he tried to hit me with the tool. It knocked my helmet out of my hand when I tried to protect myself.” Underneath the helmet were the little yellow shards of Garrett’s visor, left in a dozen pieces of shrapnel. He cursed again. He really did love that helmet.

Daud took a few extra photos and returned to his report to jot down the extra information before looking the pair over. “You sure you don’t need an ambulance or anything?” The man confirmed. Corvo looked at Garrett expectantly but he shook his head in dismissal.

“I’m fine.” He assured. Nodding at that, Daud bid them both a good night before slipping back into his cruiser to handle his new charge. The man in the back seat didn’t look happy at all and Garrett couldn’t blame him.

* * *

It took very little coaxing on Corvo’s side to persuade Garrett into letting him give him a ride home. They gathered up the tools from the scene and shoved them in the backseat of Corvo’s truck. It took a bit of work and half a dozen ratchet straps to get Erin into the bed of the truck and buckled down. Both men were worn out and Garrett was mildly relieved that it appeared he had interrupted the thief before he could do any more damage than a couple small scratches. From the looks of it, the cold weather had made the man’s job harder as he struggled to get any of the bolts free. Still, Corvo was concerned that unseen complications could cause a malfunction while Garrett was riding home. Besides, he didn’t even have a proper helmet to wear now that his was broken.

Garrett was too tired to really care at that point and practically melted into the front passenger seat of Corvo’s truck as the heater ran on full blast. He could hardly keep his eyes open as he directed the officer to his apartment building, taking the back road in to the parking garage. Corvo helped him unload his bike where he parked it against a wall to handle in the morning. His fingers rubbing idly over the scratches in the helmet, mourning the damage caused to it. He resigned himself, knowing he could always order a new one but that meant waiting in the meantime which meant less time riding. Which in the end, he doubted would happen now that he thought about it. The radio broadcast in Corvo’s truck estimated more foul rainy weather was heading their way.

“Thanks again for dinner.” Garrett offered, his thoughts drifting in and out as he fidgeted with his helmet. “And thanks for helping me with my bike. I honestly wouldn’t have known what to do.”

Corvo let out an airy laugh. “I’d say you handled yourself pretty well. You took that thief down like it was nothing.”

Garrett shrugged. “Basso wanted me to be able to protect myself and encouraged me to take up a martial arts when I was younger.” He tucked his helmet against his chest and hugged it there. “Guess it finally came in handy.” The smile he offered to Corvo was tired and weak. Corvo empathized with that. It was past midnight and they both were cold and tired.

As if sensing Corvo’s own urgency, Garrett held out a hand. “I’d offer for you to come inside for a bit but you probably should be getting home to Emily.”

“Yeah.” He nodded, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his carhartt. “If you need anything though, feel free to call or shoot me a text. Anything at all.” He paused, his voice dropping lower, softening his features in a way that made Garrett’s fingers twitch with the desire to reach out and touch him. “Even if it's as simple as needing someone to talk to.” Corvo added in that way that was all too knowing. It made Garrett’s chest ache. He curled his fingers tight around his helmet as he nodded. 

“Thank you. I’ll remember that.”

It was harder this time, turning to walk away from Corvo and forcing sluggish steps up the stairs towards his apartment. Part of him contemplated dropping here in the stairwell and calling it a day. The other part knew better and forced him onward with promises of bed. Another smaller voice at the back of his head demanded he call Corvo and ask him to come back. To curl up with him in the safety of his apartment and never let him go. Garrett wasn’t sure where this part was coming from. 

Maybe it was the aftereffects of nearly being bludgeoned to death by one of his own trying to rob his bike of its most important pieces. Maybe it was the prospect of facing death and not being on a job, where dangers were expected. Getting caught off guard and seen by the enemy was one thing, being chased by dogs trying to bite his leg off and security systems that screamed at his presence. But this? There was no preparation, no anticipation. He didn’t have twenty different fall back plans or escape routes. He was defenseless. The only reason he survived was that the thief missed in their attack and struck his helmet instead of his actual head.

The man had been spooked but he had a chance to run. There was a gap between them, space to flee or back out. Instead he lunged for Garrett as if he saw no other way out except to murder the only witness. As if his life was worth less than the parts on his bike. Something about that didn’t sit right with him. Made his stomach churn up inside. A rotting sense dwelling in the center of his chest, suffocating and cold. Not even the warmth of his comfy clothes and his bed could chase it away.

* * *

Of all the things to wake up to, Garrett would rather it not be the sound of Basso’s voice on the other end of his phone. For one, he was too loud for the morning and obviously upset by the way that Jenivere was screeching in the background. His skull felt like it was splitting open as he tried to make sense of what the older man was saying.

"Why didn't you call me last night?" Okay yeah, that tone of voice definitely screamed _ You're in hot shit mister! _ Garrett hadn't felt like a problem child in the principal's office in a long time and at the moment, he was too tired and out of it to properly formulate that he was in fact a grown ass adult who doesn't really need to answer to his guardian at every turn. Bless Basso's heart, but the man was overbearing enough as is. Garrett got an extra sense of delight in pushing the boundaries on his good days but after last night, the lure wasn't there today.

"I'm sorry Basso. I got in really late." His voice was quiet as he answered. Jenivere's squawking calmed down, letting the quiet soothe Garrett's pounding headache. His words were slurred together from sleep and he contemplated curling back up and ignoring the phone call altogether when Basso's voice returned, softer now.

"You alright? Ya got that tone like somethin happened."

Basso was wary of pushing for these sorts of things, knew better than to after the incident but that only seemed to make the man more clingy and paranoid. Garrett couldn't blame him, he had felt the same way for a while. No matter how hard he threw himself into his work, he couldn't shake that doubt and fear that curled under his skin. The fact of not _ knowing _what had happened to him haunted him. Left him wrapped in more nightmares than he had nights. He hated admitting that he was scared or needed help but if anyone was willing, it was Basso.

Garrett let the silence drag until he knew it would push Basso into asking again, speaking quickly when he heard the first breath on the other end. "I had a close call last night."

A pause, then. "Close call?" Another pause. "What kind of close call?"

Garrett sighed, buried his face into his pillow before lifting his head and resting it to one side. His good eye exposed to the world while the other was shielded in the fabric of his casing. "Caught someone trying to steal from my bike. They tried to take me out with a tire iron." He admitted softly then added quickly behind that. "It was a good thing Corvo was with me." 

It needed no other elaboration. Basso was smart enough to fill in the unspoken blanks. The consequences had it gone wrong. It wasn't entirely honest, Garrett would admit that but if it helped Basso lighten up about him hanging around a police officer, then he'd take whatever leverage he could get.

There was silence that followed, as if Basso was trying to work through the realization that Garrett had almost been killed by one of their own. He'd of course would need to do some digging to figure out what sick bastard had tried something like that. Part of him hoped it was some nameless, faceless amateur that didn't know a lick about the underground. Otherwise there will be quite a bit of hell to pay. A slew of curses followed, hissed over the phone. 

Garrett let out a tired chuckle as he murmured. "No honor among thieves I guess."

"Not funny Garrett."

"Hmm, I thought it was pretty funny." He sounded drunk, or well, more like tipsy. He was tired and the warmth of bed was an alluring temptress that promised him many luxuries in a world that wasn't reality. The further away from his problems he could get, the better. He wasn't ready to wake up and deal with the responsibilities of the real world yet. It was his day off. Well, actually, everyday is like his day off. But still. He was determined to stay indoors and enjoy it while he could. And also wait for his new helmet to come in the mail. He bought two just in case.

"Ya sure yer alright?" Basso pressed firmly, the wary glint listed to Jenivere's whistling. 

"Yeh, m'jus'tired." He grumbled, burying his face into his pillow once more.

Basso conceded. "Alright, alright. I'll let ya get back to yer beauty sleep then. Text me when ya wake up."

"Alright." Garrett hummed, not even waiting for Basso to bid him goodnight before he started to close his phone. It felt like he'd only given into the lull of sleep a few minutes before his phone vibrated.

Garrett cursed, pawing at his mattress until he found the offending device tucked half way under his pillow. "I'll text you first dammit." He half shouted into his bedding, rolling his eyes and blinking a few times to read the illuminated screen. His throat felt dry as he tried to swallow thickly, seeing the familiar I.D staring back at him. 

**Corvo**

Garrett shoved his phone onto the nightstand and rolled back over with a huff, willing himself to ignore the unread message and go back to sleep. He could wade through his feelings when he was several hours more well rested and with at least half a pot of coffee in his system when he was actually prepared for this bullshit. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Garrett is the Rat King! So he has a mark to prove it. But this special mark has more meaning to it than just fancy bike art! 
> 
> They will come up in later chapters and be better explained!
> 
> I promise!
> 
> Also Basso is the ultimate symbol of overprotective parent and nobody can tell me otherwise. He is a good Papa Bear!


	10. A Loss of Innocence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrett hates his job some days. He enjoys being privy to all the city's secrets, but not this way. Corvo is forced to question his own identity.

It was his lunch break and Corvo spent a good amount of it staring at his phone expectantly, willing it to vibrate across his desk with a response from Garrett. He was getting concerned with the radio silence. Not so much that the man was scared off from him after the events of last night. It wasn’t exactly the best end to a first date. He felt guilty, wished he had been more forceful in urging Garrett to let him walk him to his bike. The image still flashing across his mind, seared into the forefront. The way Garrett looked so small and fragile tucked into the shadows. The weakness that trembled through him, the visible shaking he could feel under the touch of his hand. He was worried about his safety. It caught both him and Daud off guard when Garrett lost his balance, hand clutching at the side of his face as if in pain. The concern that was shared between them for the man’s well being was quick but Garrett was adamant that he was alright.

After seeing that, Corvo knew there was no way he was letting him go home alone and was relieved when Garrett relented and let him. Their parting was brief and left him second guessing so many things, his thoughts racing even as he settled into his bed last night. The burn of weariness in his eyes as he stared up at the ceiling, regret rife in his stomach turning the evening's warm hearted events somewhat sour to reflect upon. There was a lot that had happened in such a short time and Corvo was still soaking up the night, even as he rolled over and stared at the clock for what felt like hours.

He had texted Garrett when he got to work, curious to know if he was alright but the message seemed to be left unread. His mind filled in all the horrible little spaces that resided in the darkest corners of his brain. All of which screamed at him that something was inherently wrong, but the rational side argued that he was overthinking it. They didn't get home until late and Garrett looked as if he would keel over if he didn't reach a bed soon. They both were tired and he knew how exhausting emotional situations can be. Garrett had one hell of a close call and his quick thinking (and reflexes) had saved his life.

Corvo sighed, letting his phone slip out of his hand where he had been fiddling with it for five minutes and leaned back in his chair. "Rough night?"

Daud's voice drifted over the partition wall separating his desk from the one in front and beside him. He jolted in his seat, head on a swivel as he found the man leaning against the metal frame with a styrofoam cup from a corner gas station. The smell of coffee wafted over to him, making Corvo curse himself for not going to their usual place during his lunch break to get some. Daud raised a brow at him, expecting an answer. 

"Eh, something like that. I bet yours was worse." Corvo offered a small smile, leaning back in his chair and weaving his fingers behind his head. 

"The most exciting part of my night was helping you out. After that it was quiet." Corvo looked the man over thoughtfully, noticing the thick red jacket over his shoulders and the obvious lack of uniform. 

"What are you doing here? Thought you had the day off?"

Daud let a small smile slip at the corner of his mouth, something that could be mistaken as sinister with the jagged scarring on his face. "I forgot to turn some paperwork in that was left in my cruiser." He explained, taking a sip of his coffee and sighing into it mournfully. He swirled what little of the dark brew remained at the bottom. "How's Boxman doing? He looked real shaken up last night but then again, I don't blame him."

Corvo sighed, glancing back at his phone thoughtfully as he answered. "Garrett is fine."

"Maybe you should try saying that a few more times then maybe it'd be more believable." Daud offered helpfully, earning a glare from Corvo, but the heat wasn't there as he submitted to the truth.

"So, were you two out to dinner or something?" Daud leaned his weight into the partition, thumbing over the rim of his empty coffee cup idly. 

"Yeah, something like that." Corvo didn't really know what to say. He had been fighting with his feelings on the matter for a very long time. He had assumed Jessamine was his forever love, his one and only. The first and last person to ever make his heart race the way it did, the flutter in his chest when he'd see her smile, the warmth that spread throughout his life when she was in it. It had been so cold ever since her light had been snuffed out, leaving him in the shadows of their former home. It took all he had to pick up the pieces and carry on the way he did, for Emily's sake. That's all he ever did.

But now, Garrett had rekindled that darkness and burned it away so he could see the day again. He could smile and laugh without that heavy cloud of guilt clinging like a pungent stench to everything. He felt free when he was with Garrett, the fire inside the smaller man was infectious, spreading to everything he touched. Just like Jessamine's. Corvo considered it as many things, that maybe it was a sign from her for him to finally move on? Maybe it was just that he finally reached a point where he could open his eyes and see for the first time again. He was willing to give the world another try and Garrett was a hand offering him that chance to live again.

Yet, he ran into a new problem. His own identity was swaying here. He hadn't really given it much thought. Jessamine had always been the easy choice, the one to catch his eye and keep his heart. Even while he traversed the tricky ins and outs of College, he never strayed to explore his own interests in his fellow peers. Had always assumed it was normal to find men handsome though he hadn't had a prominent sexual attraction before. They just looked nice, the same way women look nice. And yet, his feelings for Garrett pushed the boundaries beyond '_ just looking nice' _ and into something that, at times, made him feel guilty for while in the security of the shower. He was conflicted by this realization and it left him floundering around, grasping for something that would explain what the actual fuck was going on inside his head.

Corvo groaned, covering his face with his hands as he leaned back in his desk chair. "Why are people so complicated to deal with?"

"Why do you think I don't work in customer service?" Daud retaliated with a tone so flat and serious it made Corvo laugh. His turmoil cracked into a smile as he sighed. 

"You certainly don't have the face for it." He prodded. That was just enough to pull a smile from the other man.

"Don't you have a job to be doing?" Daud added, turning away as Corvo was reminded of the time and the unceremonious end to his lunch break.

"Fuck." He clicked his jaw shut and turned towards his computer and the daunting amount of emails and reports left unfinished.

* * *

Garrett spent most of the afternoon sleeping as much as he could, tossing and turning in his bed until he was forced to give up as the sun started to lower. He wasn’t tired really but the cold did a damn good job of keeping him tucked under the covers as long as he possibly could. Eventually he gave up and fell into his usual routine, shooting Basso a text to inform him that he was awake and alive. He had enough time to turn his coffee pot on when his phone started ringing, playing _ Go Ask Alice. _

“What’s up Basso?” He balanced the phone between his ear and shoulder while making himself a quick and easy breakfast. His hands working a spatula around his frying pan while he made an omelet, tossing shreds of cheese and slices of ham into the mix. A side of hash browns cooking on another burner.

“You feeling better?” Basso asked, earning a hum of affirmation from Garrett as he checked the contents of his pan. “You sound like it.” Basso’s voice dropped with an underlying layer of contentment.

“I told you I was just tired.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know but ya can’t fault me fer worrying.” Garrett heard Jenivere squawk in the background and the subtle crackle of the bird grinding seeds between her beak. Basso hissed through his teeth, a sound that Garrett knew from all the times the bird had gotten food aggressive towards Basso’s fingers.

Garrett hummed again, drawing away from his stove top to retrieve a plate for his meal. “You have any jobs for me Basso?”

The hint of suspicion that slipped into the older man’s voice had not gone unnoticed. “Garrett, maybe it's best that you take a break for a few days.”

“Basso, I’m fine. I’m going to go stir crazy if I’m stuck inside for long.” That was putting it mildly. “I need something to do. What do you got?”

The heavy sigh that carried over the phone speaker made Garrett wince, drawing his ear away from the phone as he started to plate his food. There was the sound of a pen being clicked nervously, a repetitive noise that increased over the quiet before Basso gave in. “Fine. I do have a job for you. Same client as the ring. They asked for the _Master Thief_ specifically.”

Garrett’s lips curled into a smile, pleased to know that he had made enough of an impression to warrant a repeat customer. It was always a good sign. “Go on.” He dug into his silverware drawer to retrieve a fork and stopped by his coffee pot long enough to get a mug and top it off. He switched Basso to speaker while he juggled his breakfast and sat at the kitchen counter.

“There’s a book in a house over by the docks. Big fancy place called the Collector’s Lodge.”

“That sounds enticing.” Garrett offered after a few bites. 

“Yeah but rumor has it, after the guy’s father passed away, the son started collectin all kinds of junk. I wouldn’t count on too much bein worth anythin.” Basso clicked his tongue and cleared his throat. 

“Oh great. A hoarder.” Garrett grumbled. He hadn’t been very fond of hoarders in the past. For one, it made it incredibly hard to find the target and even harder to move through unnoticed. On top of that, the last time he entered a hoarder’s location in search of something, he was greeted with two dead cats, a mummified rabbit and could have sworn there was a dead body in one of the bedrooms until the aforementioned body moved and he just grabbed the item and raced out of there so fast, you’d think the grim reaper was chasing him. That had been back when Garrett was still living with Basso and he practically lived in the bathroom the following day just trying to scrub the stench of death off of himself and his leathers. He was pretty sure he stepped in feces somewhere along the way but couldn’t seem to pinpoint where it was coming from.

“He’s not that bad yet.” Basso tried to salvage the offer then wondered if he could retract that statement if it meant Garrett would skip the job and stay home. It was a little too late as Garrett gave in.

“Alright. Fine. Send me the specifics. I’ll take a look and head over later tonight.” Basso made a noise in the background but Garrett couldn’t decipher what it was. His phone vibrated a few seconds later with the code for his program which prompted him to grab his laptop and quickly boot it up.

* * *

“Aubrey!” The Master of the house called down the set of stairs from the upper floor. The manservant grumbled softly to himself as he paced the front halls of the upscale home. It was fancier than Garrett anticipated but definitely filled with junk by the looks of it. The walls were lined with stuffed mounts of exotic animals and gaudy paintings of artists Garrett didn’t recognize and considered that simple fact as them not being important or expensive enough to care. He had slipped in through the back door, crawled through the kitchen, avoiding the dim lighting of the stove and skirted into the hallway outside. He drifted from shadow to shadow with ease, avoiding the well lit hallways and hiding in the darkened alcoves of the enclosed study and parlor. He narrowly missed bumping into the ugliest rendition of what he assumed to be a wild cat of some sorts but its face was scarred and distorted. It took him a moment, blinking in disbelief when he realized the taxidermist specimen had in fact, _ two _faces. 

It looked like something out of a picture of Vittori’s Believe It or Not catalog. He drifted back and forth, working his way through each room, inspecting it for some sign of where the book may be. Eventually retreating from the lower level and making his way up the steps quickly and quietly. He turned the corner in time for Aubrey to cross the hallway carrying a set of candles in one hand, the sound of his Master calling out to him with a tone of voice that was scandalous all on its own. In his other hand was a black leather hood with buckles and straps. No slits for the eyes. Garrett cursed under his breath, feeling the rising heat on his face that wasn’t just the furnace on blast in the upper level.

The moans that bellowed out, calling the servant's name in direction made Garrett wince. He watched Aubrey close the master bedroom door behind himself, shaking his head in dismissal. From the straight stoic look on the man’s face, he wasn’t at all new to his master’s salacious activities.

The sound of giggling filtered from the room, the door opened just a crack, far enough for a woman with a black lace mask to peer out into the hallway and call for Aubrey again and request more warm oil. Garrett caught a glimpse of the working outfit and immediately recalled the women (there were three in total if the voices were enough to go by) were all workers for Madam Xiao Xiao’s escort service. A free pass for the wealthy to skirt around the laws forbidding prostitution in the City.

Garrett ducked behind the adjacent wall, tucking himself up tight against the shadows as Aubrey made his fifth or sixth trip up the stairs with arms full of questionable containers and items. One of which was large, black and phallus shaped with long black straps that hung from the base. Garrett closed his eyes and decided now was the time to find the damn book and leave. The eruption of giggles and the maddening groans and audible smack of skin on skin made his hairs rise on end. It sounded like a warthog trying to mount an empty oil drum in his opinion. The tiny remnants of memories from when he was a kid and going to the Eternal City Zoo Safari section. The giant barrels left for the animals to play with had fallen from their secured fastenings and a very large warthog appeared to have taken a fancy to it and the hole in the base where a cap was pried off by earlier tusks. Of all the things to remember from his earlier years, that experience was seared into his brain and now, so was this.

He pushed on, darting past the stairwell and moving deeper into the halls of the home, checking rooms as he passed and peering in. One of these _ had _to be a library of sorts. Somewhere that would only make sense to keep a book stowed away. He jolted at the squeals of laughter and the high pitch words of encouragement from the Blossoms down the hall. He shivered, dismissing the creeping feeling that squirmed under his skin as he picked the lock to the last room at the end of the hall. Locked doors was usually a good sign. It typically meant something important was hidden away.

Garrett was greeted with the successful click of the lock giving. Checking one last time down the hall, he opened the door and slipped inside. It was dark, which was good. He didn’t need to turn a light on to look over the collection, at least not yet. His eyes scanning for any tricks or traps, his vision sorting through the darkened shapes of large glass cases. He reached into his pocket and withdrew the same UV light from before, clipping it to the front of his harness as he inspected each case. He stopped, his blood running cold as he stared into what he could only assume was human bone.

After a moment of inspection, he quickly realized it was too big for a human bone. At least he hoped so. It was intricately carved, possibly made of Ivory the longer he looked it over. It was surprisingly detailed with the little crest to resemble the tip and its smooth expanse of flesh. “Really? An ornate dildo?” Garrett grimaced, moving on as he inspected each case. Each was worse than the last, some held tools that looked like they belonged in a museum of torture techniques and not a collection of historical sex toys. There were old wooden benches and fixtures that he could only assume at some point a body would fit in them, if that person was a contortionist and a glutton for masochism. Some had strange wires and cranks. Garrett put two and two together and figured it was the first electric toy. And here he thought they just used potatoes for all their electricity needs.

He tried to keep his sarcastic comments to a minimum, hoping Aubrey wouldn’t stray down this hallway in search of his Master’s next problematic exploit while he looked around. He was beginning to think better of the task and the chances of finding what he needed when he came to the end of the room. Here more appropriate relics were kept. Amulets, gems and brooches. Some made with liquefied silver and elegantly crafted to resemble upstanding female figures. Some were threaded on cords of gold that looked so fragile that the briefest touch would cause them to fall apart. Amidst all of this, he found the book he was looking for. The gear shaped facets in the front were a dead give away, plucking at Garrett’s curiosity that it was linked to the ring in the Museum in some way.

He made quick work of the lock and cringed as the case hinges squeaked loudly in his ears. His heart picked up pace, thudding against his ribs as he listened for any sound of footsteps or voice. Instead, he was met with the near yelling of the Master of the House as he reached whatever climax he was headed for, either that or he was having a heart attack. Garrett didn’t really care if he was being honest. The man’s noisiness during sex saved him from being discovered and for that, he was thankful. Weirdly enough.

He collected the book and carefully slipped it into the leather pouch that hung at his back and slowly closed the case behind him. It took a considerably longer time to get out of the house the way he had come. Aubrey was doing a rather convincing job of pretending he didn’t hear his master while he ran the vacuum cleaner over the main hall several times. Garrett suspected he even caught the hint of headphones in the man’s ears as he blocked his Master out and stared pointedly at the front doors. Garrett had to wait for him to finish and wander into the kitchen before he could slip out unseen and into the night.

He was wrong about the house. It wasn’t a hoarder’s house but something far worse and Garrett was determined to make sure Basso _ never _sent him back there ever again. Even the lure of picking up valuables was dissuaded by the thought of where said items may have been at one point and he left with considerably lighter pockets than he was comfortable with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Garrett's mission to get the book was inspired by the Octopuss mission from Vittori to the Collector's home and the Master of the house's weird fetishes and his manservant who is absolutely done with his shit. 
> 
> Also, I realized neither Garrett or Basso have a real last name, so I gave Basso the last name of Boxman and Garrett, being his adopted little brother of sorts, shares the last name as well.
> 
> I would also like to add that I will have a new story post coming up soon which will be a Deleted Scenes section for scenes and events that I wanted to write or had planned to do so but couldn't with the current plot or setting. Some will be "Alternate" scenarios for certain chapters, others will be simply date scenes or sexual situations that I had wanted to add but would turn out to feel more like filler. As well as bits and pieces that are behind the scenes situations with the other characters like Daud, Thomas, the Outsider, Basso and Queen of Beggars.
> 
> Keep an eye out for it! I'll start posting it sometime this week!


	11. The Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corvo and Daud roast each other while Basso has the luxury of being hosted by Thadeus Harlan. 
> 
> Nobody is having a good day. Except maybe Garrett.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, I wouldn't be surprised if Corvo has his letter of resignation just sitting inside his desk waiting for the day when enough is enough. 
> 
> Also, I took the liberty of naming the anonymous collector from Vittori's Octopuss mission.

Corvo did not expect to spend his Friday morning outside the Voleur residence doing a report on a missing book. Did the ECPD look like the local librarians? His job wasn’t chasing down stolen storybooks and he didn’t exactly see the lure of stealing some old tome or grimoire that was possibly fake to begin with. He kept his grumbling to a minimum and silenced the sarcastic commentary in lieu of enjoying a long sip of his coffee. He trailed up the front marble steps and into the lobby of the esteemed home. Daud already trailing ahead of him, greeted by the butler of the home who discovered the theft early that morning. Aubrey led the pair of officers up the large wooden staircase to the second floor, lined with an elegantly carved banister that looked like a host of safari themed creatures coiling around each bar and post.

Large chandeliers hung above, already lit and flooding the hall with copious amounts of light, burning away the shadows that the natural lighting of the downcast weather failed to permit entry. Aubrey explained in detail how he came to discover the room had been tampered with. Apparently the Master of the house was still tucked into bed, sleeping off the antics of a busy night with his guests, leaving Aubrey to handle the problem at hand.

The man gestured to the room when they reached the end of the hall. It was well lit, with two large decorative hanging lights that flooded the room, exposing the walls of books that lined one side and the standing glass cases filled with antiques.

“Is that..?” It was Corvo who stared into the first of half a dozen cases, taking note of the white presumably ivory ornate carving. Daud peered over his shoulder, drawn in with his own curiosity before quickly turning away.

“It is.” Aubrey confirmed. “Master Voleur has rather _ interesting _tastes.” The man in all honesty sounded tired and Corvo couldn't blame him if the rumors about Voleur were anything to go by.

“That’s one way to put it.” Corvo prompted as he moved away from the fancy dildo and ignored the other cases filled with items of wood and leather that shared the same scandalous and taboo history as the last. He skirted around the large leather coated and wooden equipment positioned in the corners of the rooms and even in the center, keeping his eyes down and ignoring the creeping heat that spread across his olive skin. He watched as Daud took a moment to take photos of the end case, ignoring the joke that attempted to come out about Daud taking _ dick pics _and simply cleared his throat. He reminded himself to behave in Aubrey’s presence. At least a little bit. They had an image to uphold in the public eye, what good that was doing at the moment. 

He caught a glimpse of the morning news while he was getting dressed. Now there were protests going on. Some man of the peace going by the name Orion was standing up like some sort of People’s Champion to fight the ‘corruption’ of the City. Not that Corvo really doubted the underhanded dealings that went on behind closed doors. That was a given in any society. Nowhere was safe as long as men were greedy and selfish.

Aubrey had explained in detail what exactly was missing from the display case, giving a good description of the book though adding at the end that the missing tome had a strange locking mechanism on it and without the key, trying to force the mechanism free would risk destroying the item altogether. It was fragile and extremely old. Daud shared a look with Corvo, a silent confirmation of each other's suspicions. They startled at the sound of Master Voleur calling out to his butler. Aubrey politely excused himself and left the officers to their investigation. Corvo trailed idly behind him, eyes scanning the floor and frame around the door for any signs of forced entry. Daud was casing the rest of the room to ensure nothing else appeared to be missing or moved. 

“There’s a mark on the case lock consistent with our thief.” Daud informed after a moment of silence. His grey eyes cast towards the doorway and found Corvo knelt on the floor, his coffee set aside by the wall as he flashed a small light into the handle, examining the same telltale marks of a lock being picked. 

“Same here.” They took the photographs needed and left the room. Corvo rescued his coffee from the floor as they scanned the house, gazing down the staircase and wondering just how their thief managed to enter the building. Half an hour of looking, checking windows and doors, pacing the perimeter, they finally found the marks of entry at the back kitchen door. In the backyard were faint impressions of treadless footprints and the very subtle disturbance of shrubbery where branches had been broken or pushed out of their neatly trimmed appearance. The thief had gone over the adjacent fence and into the next yard over. He was careful to stay outside of any home security cameras and appeared to have fallen back to a back street at the end of a private drive.

Neighbors mentioned the sounds of a motorcycle at night. One recalled hearing it some time around 3am while another mentioned it as closer to midnight. Maybe one o’clock at the latest. Daud and Corvo took down notes and witness statements before retiring back to the station for the evening with no more leads than they started. All of what they learned, they already knew from past reports from the last eight years.

“This doesn’t make sense.” Corvo gently swished his coffee around in his hand, mourning the now cold drink as it sat nearly finished. He slid back into the front passenger seat of the cruiser as Daud settled in to drive. “There isn’t much of a rhyme or reason with how he works.”

Daud remained quiet as he pulled the cruiser out onto the main road and headed back to the station to report in to Harlan and their lack of clues. After a moment of silence, he did finally speak up with an offering to his partner. “If he was a common purse snatcher, then yeah. He has no set system of targets aside from the wealthy and influential.”

“What he takes ranges from documents, jewelry and now books?” Corvo started then paused. His eyes narrowed as he looked towards Daud. The other officer seemed unaware that the gears were turning away in his head as he worked through the layers that added up over the last couple weeks. Corvo had always considered their assailant as a rebel without a cause sort of guy. A real Robin Hood type sticking it to the higher ups but there was a method to his jobs if one looked at it in a business sense. “Unless of course he’s part of a bigger outfit. Organized crime with clients and specific orders.” There was a pause as he thought it over. 

“He?” Daud asked, glancing at Corvo when they rolled to a stop at a red light. Corvo looked confused. Daud dug out his phone and skimmed through the images until he found the still photo he screenshotted from the security feeds he’d been going over. He had ran it through several different programs to try and clean it up to better see the assailant's face but the glowing light still obscured their view. Instead, it showed something new. Daud looked back up as the light changed, handing the phone over to Corvo who accepted it.

“What exactly am I looking at here?” Corvo asked.

“The gear they’re wearing.”

Corvo squinted, lifting the phone screen closer and zooming in on the image. “Dear god, do I need to get you glasses old man?” Daud cracked a laugh, watching Corvo scowl at him in the corner of his eye. 

“Is that a corset?” Corvo asked after a moment, turning the phone to the side as he inspected the image, zooming it in and out, squinting again but shooting Daud a look when he caught the smug expression on the other officer’s face. The unspoken taunt hanging in the air between them. “I guess that would explain the size and body shape. No average man could move like they do.”

“Jealous?” Daud asked. “I could always get you a leotard and you could give gymnastics a try _ princess _.”

“Fuck off.” Corvo grumbled, handing Daud’s phone back as the man took it and tucked it into his pocket without dragging his gaze from the road. It didn’t stop Corvo from casting a glance at the position of the driver’s seat and smiling. “Need a booster seat there junior? Maybe you’ll be able to reach the pedals better.”

The silent middle finger that turned his way earned a snicker from Corvo who turned to stare at the passing city streets. The empty buildings and neglected neighborhoods struggling to stay on two feet. The city was falling apart and nobody seemed to care. The news ignored the ugly side of their little world, shaping it into a tiny box and staring over at the blinding lights of Auldale where businesses thrived, the roads were new and the hydrants were practically made of gold while all the occupants south of the river struggled to keep going day to day. The bright glitzy nightlife that distracted the powerful upper class from the trash can fires with homeless huddled around trying to warm their hands and sharing ratty old blankets. Even the churches were giving up, no longer able to fund their charity drives or food kitchens.

He figured it wasn’t all that surprising that this Orion fella was rising from the ashes of the past incidences and utilizing them to his advantage, fueling the fear of the citizens. It was bad enough everyone was panicked with winter coming in. It was supposed to be one of the worst seasons yet. 

He sighed, closing his eyes and letting his thoughts drift to the idle static of the radio.

  


* * *

  
  


Basso was too tired for this bullshit and in all honesty, he was too worn out from a day of work to really be nervous about it anymore. The police showed up at his office asking him to accompany them down town to answer some questions involving the recent string of heists going on in the news. This of course wouldn’t be the first time they were convinced he knew something about some crime going on. The man was resourceful, he had eyes and ears all over town. Even the most grizzled hard ass cop in the ECPD knew about his connections but they hadn’t a single bit of proof he was connected to any ill dealings. Just that he was aware.

They’d tried numerous times to conscript him as an informant and threatened to have him put away for a long time if he refused. Of course, he obviously refused and still ended up walking free by dinner time. But despite all his good fortunes, today felt different. They had shown up just as he was leaving work. A couple of unnamed micks shoving their way through his door and eyeing him with a lazy sort of smile that told him they were just as tired of the bullshit song and dance as he was. He didn’t refuse. Just asked if he could make a quick phone call to a friend to ensure his car was picked up from the parking lot and that Jenivere was taken care of.

The officers stood by, shifting impatiently as he dialed up Garrett and made the request. He was casual, his tone relaxed and even. There was some light banter tossed between the two before Basso ended the call and walked downstairs to the cruiser. They didn’t dally with slapping cuffs on his wrists like he was some kind of criminal already. 

When he arrived, they already had a nice little room waiting for him. A table set in the center and a chair tucked on one side, simpler and less comfortable than the ones the officers settled into while they took down his important information. He didn’t know if it was pertinent to the task but one of the officers paused and asked. 

“Who was it you were on the phone with earlier?” Taking a good long look at the man, Basso could assume it was little more than curiosity. Or maybe they were looking for a flaw in his story, a slip up early on. Maybe even a twinge of nerves. Basso didn’t let any of that show. He had nothing to be worried about.

“My kid.” He answered simply, a gesture of his hands rattling the cuffs on the table. He folded his fingers together, thumb pads flush together. 

“You’re married then?”

The snort that followed was louder than Basso anticipated but it was honestly amusing. “Married to my work s’more like it. I never had the time for a nice woman. Nah, the kid is one I adopted.”

“What made you do that?” The second officer asked, more curious now, leaning forward against the table as he inspected Basso closely. To anyone looking in from the outside, Basso didn't exactly look like the charitable type. He resembled a proper businessman in every way, cleaned up and concise. Even his posture and the way he held his head said he was accustomed to being on the spot and making important decisions every single day. He didn't look like the fatherly type of person to come home and play catch with junior, especially one who wasn't his own.

“Ya ever see a stray cat on the side of a street, pawing in the trash n’ makin the most god awful saddest meow ya ever heard?” Basso started, smoothing his palms out over the table in a swift gesture, fingers drumming on the surface thoughtfully. The officers looked at one another as Basso continued. The slight sag in his shoulders, the look that warmed in those old green eyes, like he was thinking about something important, something far away and precious. “The day I saw him, it was like seeing a stray like that. I had the means to help and so I did.”

The silence that dragged on after that wasn’t necessarily awkward but something was off about it. Somber almost. The officers excused themselves quietly, took the paperwork they had been filling out with his information and left him alone to his thoughts.

The hours had stretched, his back ached something fierce in the uncomfortable chair and he eventually stood up and stretched. He offered a few paces around the room, leaned against the wall beside his seat instead with the chair in front of him, fingers drumming on the back to the tune of a song that danced in his head. He returned to his chair when his legs were getting sore and his back didn’t hurt so much. Another officer stopped by to offer him a bottle of water or a cup of coffee. Basso accepted the former and settled back into his seat when it was brought to him. It had to be growing late. He was tired and just wanted to go home and give Jenivere a good scratch and hear her crackling songs.

When next the door opened, Basso honestly wasn’t surprised that it was the devil himself making an appearance. Scratch that, the devil at least had a more pleasing face to look at. Harlan’s was like a jack o’lantern left out in the sun to rot after Hollow’s Eve. The man had that smug grin on him that made Basso glad he chose water instead of coffee, otherwise he was very tempted to dump the drink on the asshole. Of all the people to come through that door, it had to be Lieutenant Thadeus _ fucking _ Harlan.

The man had it out for Garrett. A right awful sort of hard on that bordered on sex offender level and that was saying something since the man was on Garrett’s case even before the thief had reached legal adult age. Basso had made more than a few trips down to the police station to pick up Garrett after Harlan had snatched him up while he was walking home from school, claiming the youth was up to something unpleasant. At one point, he jumped the younger man after he’d taken a job delivering newspapers. Garrett was driving his first car and Harlan made a big deal over it, claimed he lacked the proper paperwork which was obvious bullshit since Basso was the one who set it all up for Garrett. 

The man had a sick look in his eyes every time Garrett was around like he was convinced the youth was up to no good. Which at this point in his life, was honestly true. But back then, Garrett kept his nose clean. He stayed out of trouble and he especially avoided Thadeus Harlan of all people. Before meeting Basso, Garrett had a few foul run ins with the man that had turned ugly. It was a wonder the officer was still on duty with the level of fucked up he was. It didn’t take a professional quack to see it. He was a real sick fuck.

“Mr. Boxman.” Harlan greeted with that slimy smile that made Basso inwardly cringe. He kept his expression neutral, his hands folded in front of him where they could easily be seen. No need to give the man anymore fuel to cause them more trouble, deranged or not. “I’m glad you could make some time in your busy schedule to meet with me.”

Basso struggled to keep the sneer from his lips, gritting his teeth instead. “Ya really rolled out the red carpet here.” He grumbled lowly, catching the little twitch in the corner of Harlan’s mouth. The unsettling smile pressed into the creases of his features. The plastered dark hair that made him look like a monastery escapee. The little twist of his mustache giving him the look of a cartoonish evil villain which as far as Basso was concerned, was highly fitting for the man.

“You must be very busy so let's get down to business.” He shuffled through the stack of papers he’d brought with him tucked neatly inside a binder. There were photographs, reports, names and addresses, witness statements and many more. Basso was more than aware it was a scare tactic. Harlan was playing it easy, taking his sweet ass time getting to the fucking point. He wanted Basso to think there was something more at hand, that he had _ some _detail of evidence that would push him into a corner. Basso was very well versed in this game, had been playing it for most of his life. He wasn’t necessarily a betting man and would never waste good money on a gamble but he had the utmost confidence in not only himself but also Garrett’s skills.

The young man was meticulous. He was bordering on obsessive in his planning, even going out of his way to build entire complicated programs to protect any job information passing between them. There was even a timer set to each job that the information would metaphorically self-destruct into billions of pieces of coding that could never be recovered. It was unwritten as easily as it was created. Basso was damn proud of him too, even if the little shit tended to get on his nerves and made him worry more than any parent ever had any right to. He couldn’t help it.

But of all the things to fuss over, Garrett’s professional life was the least of his worries. Or so they _ were _ . Once upon a time. Ever since the _ incident, _Basso found himself growing more frantic on days when Garrett delays getting back in contact with him. The brief hours between when he’s completely off the grid and untraceable, Basso paces and watches his phone, waiting for the call. Be it a simple check in with a giddy Garrett wired from the adrenaline rush of a successful job, or that dreaded message from Victoria when one of her people had found Garrett’s body. He had thought it a joke when it had first happened. It had to be some tasteless scheme Garrett had talked her into, a prank to pull Basso’s leg and really get him going. Basso didn’t believe it. He found it even harder to swallow when he reached the hospital and it was true.

The looks the staff directed at him when they passed, the pause in their steps. The sympathy in their eyes. When he had finally entered Garrett’s hospital room, he nearly dropped to his knees right there in the doorway. His hands gripped the frame with all the strength he had left, trying to ground himself as his world came crashing down around him.

Basso swore he’d never let that happen again. Even if it meant being a bigger thorn in Garrett’s side than the thief was accustomed to, it wasn’t his choice anymore. Basso wouldn’t survive another incident like that. He was too old, his heart too fragile for another close call like that. 

He sighed, leaned back in his chair and resigned himself to whatever game Harlan was playing at. He was too tired to care. Knew he had to dance with the devil to keep him away from Garrett. Knowing Harlan, it wouldn’t take much for the officer to be snapping at the thief’s heals over tiny details.

Harlan tossed one menial question after another at Basso, teasing at the edges of his knowledge and what he knew. Basso had to keep up with what he could, giving answers he knew would be equal to paying very good attention to the morning news. Harlan quizzed him on the Museum heist, the information leak and even made mention of the most recent book that had gone missing. Basso was caught off guard by that last one, knowing all too well it wouldn’t have made the news yet. He shrugged it off, made a light quip about Harlan taking up a side job as a librarian now and was rewarded with a displeased scowl. Basso counted that as one victory point for himself. 

It lasted only a few seconds until Harlan’s next question made Basso’s blood run cold. “How is little Garrett doing? I heard about the.. _ accident _was it? A mugging? Such a shame.” He clicked his tongue and Basso saw red flash before his eyes. His fingers curled into tight fists but he forced his hands to slide off the table and rest in his lap, out of view. That self-satisfied look fueled the fire in the pit of Basso's stomach. The little hints that Harlan was convinced he was winning, prodding at the raw little edges that Basso tried so hard to keep covered. He was relentless, knew how to get under his skin in the worst of ways but Basso refused to let himself be put out over it. He was better than this scum bag. Even if the idea of grabbing him by what scant traces of hair remained atop his head and slamming that smirk into the desk, was far more appealing now than it really should.

His jaw clenched tightly in refusal to feed the man’s sick little game any further. Gathering himself up, he forced his thoughts to clear and comply to his pacifist stance. What lotta good that was doing for him.

“You don’t have to answer. I was just concerned is all.” Harlan’s voice danced on the air with amusement. The sly smile, the way his eyes pitched up in the corners like he knew something Basso didn’t and that made him sick to his stomach. He wanted to break that smile on his face into a dozen pieces. Maybe cost him a few teeth in the process. As far as Basso was concerned, it might actually be an upgrade. If only a little.

"If you don't want to cooperate, I guess we're done here. There's a nice little cell with your name on it, Mr. Boxman." Harlan informed, gathering his belongings and setting everything neatly inside his binder. The toothy grin made Basso grimace, flexing his hands beneath the table. "You're going to have a long weekend to think things over."

"You can't keep me here without a charge." Basso countered. 

"I'll be speaking with a judge for a warrant to search your financial records. Sadly it's the weekend which means you'll have to stay put. Wouldn't want you tampering with potential evidence now would we?"

_ You rat bastard. _Basso hissed, glaring down the man as he headed for the door. "Don't I get a phone call?"

"I was informed you already made your call." Harlan reminded simply, giving a dismissive wave as he opened the door. Another officer appeared prepared to take Basso to a holding cell. As he was guided down the off white halls of the station, he heard Harlan call from behind in a cheery tone that made Basso want to turn around and lunge at the man. "Enjoy your stay."

He kept his eyes forward and focused on the sound of their footsteps and the thundering beat of his heart, willing away the anger that seeped under his skin. The white knuckled ache to hit something or _ someone. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basso has a lot of feels about Garrett and he is a good papa bear. Publicly and legally, he is Garrett's adoptive father but their personal relationship is a mix between Parental and Sibling like. Some days Basso is that stern structural father figure in Garrett's life, and other days he's the big brother who offers him a shoulder to lean on and someone to just relax with and have some fun to burn away the stress. 
> 
> He's easily old enough to be considered Garrett's father but that's beside the point. Garrett is his annoying problem child, whether he's a little brother or a son, and Basso wouldn't have it any other way. 
> 
> On another note, Corvo is confused by everything (go easy on him, he is trying his best.) and Daud isn't much help.


	12. Visiting Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basso gets out and Garrett has a visitor.

They tried two more times to drag Basso into an interrogation room to answer questions. The second time was Saturday evening where the same two officers that picked him up the day before now sat in front of him. They asked a couple questions but Basso remained silent. He folded his arms across his chest and ignored any attempts to make him talk or goad him into giving answers to implicate himself. Unlike Harlan, these schmucks didn't have the balls to be even remotely intimidating. They didn't have anything to push him over the edge. Basso felt more at ease this way, away from Harlan's silent threats towards Garrett. The unspoken promises to make thief's life hell. 

Basso hadn't a doubt in his mind about it. Harlan knew. Somehow the sick bastard knew it was Garrett behind it all but without the evidence to prove it, he was running out of options. That wouldn't stop him from trying but even if he tried to get a warrant to search Garrett's place, he had no motive to secure a judge's signature. But Basso's financial records? A judge wouldn't think twice about it, hoping they could catch another businessman trying to evade paying it to the Man. He wasn't sure if Harlan thought Basso had something tucked away that linked back to Garrett, but the man sure was reaching far to try and get it.

Or maybe he thought Basso was selfish enough to sell his own out to avoid jail time. He'd gladly bite the bullet if it kept that lunatic away from Garrett, but without Basso on the outside mediating the bullshit, Harlan would be gunning right for him and the thief wouldn't have a day's rest. That thought alone left him tossing and turning on the stiff cot, cursing the tiny ass cell he'd been stuffed into. He had a hard time relaxing without Jenivere to soothe his nerves. Even resorted to whistling to himself at one point, if only to hear a variation of sound that wasn't creaking metal hinges and the echoes of other cells being open and closed.

Sunday slid on by with equal sluggishness and Basso was convinced if the wait didn't kill him, the food would. He prodded at it with a measure of disgust before pushing it away entirely. He hadn't the appetite with the ball of stress curling up knots in his stomach. 

It was late Sunday night when those officers returned and before they could even pull him from his cell, Basso spoke one word. "Lawyer." They grimaced, glaring down at him where he sat on the cot, arms folded expectantly. He was allowed a single phone call to his lawyer then settled back into his cell for the rest of the night. By morning, he was beyond pleased to be informed that he was being released and even further more, by the fact that he was greeted by his lawyer. He was informed that the search warrant Harlan had been after was challenged and overruled due to the fact that there was no credible source stating Basso had any illegal finances and his accountant could legitimize that claim.

Basso was relieved, the tendrils of stress that snuck throughout his body had slowly ebbed away and he felt like he was going to keel over. He blinked a few times, giving his eyes a rub as he signed the paperwork to get his belongings back. He pawed through the bag to ensure everything was accounted for, returning his hat to its proper place and tucking his jacket over his arm.

While he waited for the last bit of the process, he noticed two dark skinned officers coming in through the front doors. One was tall with long dark hair tied up and eyes just the same, a coffee held lazily in one hand and the beginnings of a beard forming along his jawline like he hadn't had the time to shave this morning. The other he recognized from the task force Harlan was heading. He'd noticed the man lurking on the edges of the screen during the press conference. A real winning smile, that one. Grey eyes tore away from whatever conversation his partner was having to pin Basso with a peculiar stare. Basso grunted, turning his own eyes away when the officer at the front desk handed him a bill.

Basso stared at the ridiculous price for his room and board then grumbled. "Worst hotel stay ever. I give ya zero stars."

He heard a sound of amusement behind him and caught that same officer watching him still. The slight upward tilt of a smile on his lips as he tuned back into whatever his partner was going on about. Another officer had joined them as they lingered by the doors. Basso stuffed the bill away and headed out, greeted by the rare glimpse of sunlight that had finally broke through the last week of gloom that blanketed the city. He squinted, scanning the parking lot when he spotted Garrett sitting on the hood of his car like the overgrown feline he was, basking in the sun. The black of his clothes soaking up the warmth while he stretched against the hood. His eyes hidden behind the sunglasses but Basso knew he'd been spotted the moment he stepped out. The little curl of a smile giving it away.

"You're late." Garrett called towards the man as he closed the few yards between the curb and the sleek black body of the car. Garrett slid off the hood and bounced on his feet as Basso embraced him in a big hug. Garrett grunted under the firm hold, feeling like a stuffed animal in a child's arms as he wiggled around until freed.

"Was a little busy getting scammed for all my worth." Basso answered as he leaned back, looking over Garrett as he gave his shoulders a firm squeeze. "Ya know, you got quite the fan club in there." He hitched his thumb back over his shoulder towards the police department. 

Garrett chuckled. "I'm not sure rather to be flattered or scared by that."

"If you were smart, it'd be the latter." Basso answered, lumbering around the hood towards the passenger door. He sighed, eager to sleep in his own bed and get some real food in his stomach. The squeak of the door opening made him wince, pulling at the start of a headache after all the banging and clanging that went on in the cells. He hissed through his teeth as he settled back into the seat, his back protesting the action but after a moment it faded.

A shift in his peripheral followed Garrett's figure settling into the seat beside him. His small form looked child like in the driver's seat. He withheld the urge to make a height joke when he noticed Garrett's seat was pulled all the way up to the steering console and the seat itself was lifted so he could see out the windows and still glimpse his rear view. Basso allowed himself a chuckle, reminded why Garrett preferred his bike over a normal vehicle.

"Oh, I got you something." The thief announced, leaning through the gap between the front seats to reach behind Basso's spot. Tucked just out of view was a large powder blue gift bag with _ Its a boy! _written in fancy bubbly font. 

Basso raised a brow as it was placed in his lap. "Somethin ya want to tell me?" He asked, gesturing at the gift bag. 

"It's all they had at the store." Garrett huffed. "Just open it."

"And here I thought I lucked out and you'd be settling down." He was rewarded with an amused snort from Garrett. The playful smile on his lips was refreshing after the week he had. He sighed and pulled open the ribbons securing it shut and took a look inside. 

The amusement was clear on his face when he found a large bag of multi-colored popcorn from his favorite candy shop in the mall. It was one of the few treats Basso enjoyed and Garrett steered clear of. Something about not liking the way the flavors all mixed together. It honestly meant more for Basso in the end. But that wasn't all that was inside. 

"What the-" Basso wasn't really sure how to respond to this one. At the bottom of the bag was a soft plush teddy bear with a black tail coat and bowtie. Atop its head was a top hat balanced precariously between its ears. With it was a small cardboard name tag that introduced it as _ Teddy Bearso. _

"They didn't have a bowler hat option." Garrett pointed out, the shit eating grin on his face reflected just how amused he was with himself. Basso suspected the choice in gift bag was intentional as well, despite Garrett's claim.

"Ya got me a teddy bear?" He was honestly kind of touched about it. His fingers rubbing over the soft fur of the toy and moving the plush arms around thoughtfully. It looked like the make-it-yourself kind and it showed with the large amount of stuffing in the torso. He wasn't sure if it was due to Garrett's lack of knowledge on building toys or if it was intentional to resemble his own bulk. Basso leaned more towards the latter. It brought a fondness to his old features. 

"I looked up what kind of gifts to give someone getting out of jail. Sex and blow jobs were out of the question so I figured a bear would be more fitting." Basso had no clue how Garrett managed to say that aloud with a straight face but he was impressed. And also concerned with the thief's search history.

"I appreciate the sentiment. Thank you." Basso hummed, drawing his seat belt on as Garrett did the same and started driving them home. "How's Jenivere?"

Garrett navigated them out of the parking lot and onto the main road, fingers lightly bobbing on the steering wheel as he inspected the traffic. "She's doing good. Says she missed you."

"Liar." Basso chuckled, settling the bear in his lap and the bag between his feet on the floor. He fiddled with it idly, falling into a lull of monotonous rubbing against the material. "I can't wait to get home." 

His gaze was fixed out the window, taking in the passing cars and looming buildings that made up the complicated layout of the city.

"Do you want me to stick around for a bit?" Garrett asked after a long pause of silence with just the sound of the road beneath the tires and the occasional pothole.

Basso thought it over, mulling it over a bit before giving in to the idea. "Yeah. If you're not busy or nothin."

"I'm not." Garrett answered quickly, catching Basso's eye as he glanced towards him. They rolled to a stop at a red light, the gentle clicking of keys tapped against the dash from the movement. Basso inspected the old faded keychain with a nearly yellowed image of Tom Cat grinning back slyly. The abundance of keys, both old and useless to any real task aside from Basso's house key and the car key. It was Garrett's spare set. Littered with his old apartment keys, the key from his first car, antique keys and various other little charms and trinkets that were collected on it. All were faded, worn and made of some variation of metal, bronze or faux gold in coloring aside from the occasional odd silver skeleton key. Most of them were gifts Basso had given him. Little things he knew Garrett would enjoy. The magpie gleam in his eye always lighting up at something new and different. The older and more outlandish the design, the better.

It was a collection of sentimental value that Garrett still carried on him. The realization warming Basso's old heart. The young thief had come a long way from the tiny fragile creature that was curled up in dark corners and too thin to stop a winter wind from blowing through him. He was respectable, incredibly smart and dedicated to what he loved. He knew the world would only see Garrett for the misdeeds of his job, but Basso appreciated being able to watch him grow up into the man he was today. For all the bellyaching he does, he wouldn't trade a single minute of it for all the riches in the world. _ Maybe _ for all the peace and quiet, but then again, that was overrated.

"Thanks again, Garrett." He spoke up, earning a slightly confused look from the thief. He raised a brow, taking in the easy going expression on Basso's face. The dark circles that started to settle under his eyes and the subtle twitch of fingers in the fur of the bear. 

He smiled softly, his voice just as quiet. "Sure thing Basso."

* * *

Garrett was tired by the time he returned home. He stayed with Basso, watching over the man as he slept all curled up in the copious amount of blankets giving him the appearance of a gerbil snuggled into a mound of wood chips. He took just enough time to change into something more comfortable, chattering sweetly to Jenivere as she sang to him with delight at his return. Garrett had to carry her back to her cage to keep her from clinging to Basso’s shoulder, refusing to leave his side. He settled onto the couch, let the t.v play softly on whatever Basso had saved on his DVR. He shared a box of crackers with the playful magpie who stole saltines from his mouth as he balanced them between his lips and raced along the top of the couch to hoard them far beyond Garrett’s reach. The gleam in her dark eyes amused the thief, as if the bird genuinely thought she got away with something and Garrett hadn’t just let her have her hoard like the tiny feathered dragon she was. 

After Basso woke up, Garrett made them both dinner and they chatted over the meal like old time’s sake. It felt nice. Garrett settled into their old routine and found a pleasant rush of nostalgia as he washed dishes and watched Basso coo at Jenivere where she nuzzled her beak against his cheek and nibbled on the edges of his ear. The tip of her beak preening his hair where it was still damp from the shower he took before dinner. It was getting late when Garrett left, stretching his legs on the walk back to his place. It wasn’t too far out of the way. A distance he could easily run to should something happen. Basso had been determined about that when he accompanied Garrett in looking for a place to live.

Basso’s place was a lot nicer than Garrett’s but still owned by Victoria. He was the only fence in the building but other _ entrepreneurs _had come to call it home as well. A professional art dealer who worked at a local gallery lived on the first floor, well known for his spot on appraisals of unique and little known pieces. Garrett had come to them in the past for a few personal pieces he’d come across to ensure they were in fact, the real deal. Another occupant was well versed in anything that ran with an engine. He used to work for some big time automotive company that bought into military production. He could dress down and put back together an engine the way a marine could do a gun.

There were several different places around the city like his building and Basso’s. They could be spotted by the rat shaped marking like the one on his bike. Often times a silhouette of the image in black or an outline in white placed in a doorway or on a window frame declared it property of the Queen of Beggars. That meant it was off limits. Anyone who resided within her walls were protected as were their belongings. 

The city was vast and its occupants even greater. Not even criminals could keep track of one another by face and name alone. Many of them had an identifying mark, some variation of the Queen’s that they wore. Like Basso for instance, wore a black rat pin on his hat, easy to take off in a pinch. Garrett’s bike had a marker with his own little twist of a crown atop the rat’s head and a similar solid black one tattooed on the webbing between his thumb and forefinger on his right hand. A teasing play on an old alias of his. Back when a smart mouthed 13 year old him had brazenly stared Harlan down with refusal to oblige any orders. 

This was about a year or two before he met Basso and Harlan was a simple street cop patrolling through the slums. He caught Garrett climbing around an older condemned building that was fenced off for public safety. Garrett had slipped through the gaps in the fence and was using it to practice climbing and jumping. Harlan caught him off guard and chased him into a dead end ally. When he asked for Garrett’s name, he proclaimed loudly that he was the Rat King. It was a silly little thought, born from a favorite childhood movie about a Rat Lord who was the greatest criminal mind and thief in the history of London.

Unbeknownst to him, it had come in handy later on in life. Harlan still spit the alias at him with disgust and Garrett would grin back with a self-satisfied smirk. It often landed him with black eyes and bloody noses. He’d even lost a tooth at one point to the bastard when he was fourteen and Harlan hip checked him into the side of a dumpster. He had more than enough scars from the cop alone to last him a lifetime. Some from physical altercations, some he got while running from the man. Back when his feet were uncoordinated and his body was still trying to figure out how to grow right.

He thumbed over the dip in his right hand, remembering the time Harlan caught his hand and slammed it against a brick wall. The officer claimed Garrett had tried to reach for his gun but the thief was trying to protect himself from Harlan’s fists. He didn’t know there was a piece of broken metalwork where a fire escape was once fixed into the exterior, the debris pierced right through his hand and Garrett crumpled to the ground, curled protectively around it. Harlan thought it was a ruse until he spotted the blood that stained the front of Garrett's ratty old clothes.

Garrett lucked out that Harlan hadn’t done far worse. Some days it ached, the pale white scar hidden beneath the black fabric of his gloves. When the weather got too cold and his hands seized up, he had a hard time keeping the strength in it to grip or pull anything. On the rare occasion he would struggle to do simple tasks like tie the lacing on his boots or pull the straps tight on his leathers. He dreaded when age would catch up to him, already aware of the bellyaching Basso does when the temperature drops or a storm rolls in. The dull ache in his bones, the protest of his joints when he pushes them beyond their limits and is made to regret it in the days following. With only a hot bath to soothe and relax the tightly wound muscles and a heating pad on his bed to help him sleep through it.

Maybe when that time comes along, he’ll consider retiring his cloak and putting up his bow. He always had his side jobs for local businesses to fall back on for income or a source of entertainment. Somebody was always willing to pay for programming and web design. The work was tedious and kept him busy during the day, kept a steady cash flow to look like he was a common civilian and not a ridiculously wealthy criminal. All he had to worry about was paying his monthly dues to Victoria and would toss some extra donations her way when she stops by to visit for tea.

He mounted the steps to his apartment with quick succession, using the railing to give himself that extra boost in his step. The ever so subtle bounce as he headed for his floor. He had reached for the door to his apartment, pausing with his hand on the knob as pain stirred in the back of his skull. Not quite sharp but a warmth that settled in his eye, like he was staring up at the summer sun as it blinded him. He squinted, the world shifting from the dull orange glow of the hallway lights that hummed ominously this time of night, to the whiteout of cooler colors. As if he were peering through a film of glacier ice, seeing the glistening edges of snow caps and electric blue haze over the world. The soft blue glow grew stronger, like a figure standing in front of him. The impression flickered, he stumbled back away from the door as it faded back to the sickly orange hues that looked almost waxy now.

His hand cupped over his right eye, a soft groan leaving his throat as he leaned his back against the wall. The door opened, slowly at first, causing him to tense up. His good eye flickering towards the figure and was met with the hunkered over form of the aforementioned elderly woman. Her milky eyes greeting him with an eerie sense of knowing exactly where he was. Her silver hair tied up neatly and a large mink fur coat hugged her frail figure. At the door stood a man Garrett recognized simply by the dark swath of hair slightly spiked up and the youthful appearance. He looked roughly the same age as Garrett, with smooth pale skin and a terrifying black color to his eyes that once would give Garrett nightmares. Now he was accustomed to the ghostly visage who helped Victoria navigate the world. He was cleaned up, in a suit and tie as per usual.

Garrett straightened up, taking a step through the threshold of his apartment. His eyes scanned it to ensure nobody else was lingering around the corners or tucked into the shadows. He never truly had to worry about Victoria. She had watched over him her entire life and was the one who introduced him to Basso when he was a child. By any other means, she was practically his grandmother at this point and acted as much.

She greeted him with a stiff hug, her frail arms pulling him close as he shuffled the short distance between them. She pressed a kiss to his cheek, her long delicate fingers caressing his cheeks and running along his jaw thoughtfully as if she were inspecting him the way distant family does when reunited. Her thin lips spread into a smile. Garrett could practically taste the perfume she was wearing as if she traveled in a haze of it all the time. It was bitter on his tongue and always made his nostrils burn from the pungent scent. Once upon a time, this scent had permeated her home and settled into the furnishings, making it a comforting memory for Garrett but now, it was overbearing.

“It’s been a long time since you’ve come to see me Garrett.” She chided but her voice was light. Garrett rested his hands on her forearms, gently cradling them as she held close still. 

“I don’t think it's been that long, has it?” He asked, guiding her towards the couch where it appeared she’d previously been seated to wait for him. Her companion appeared more inclined to hover by the door like a silent watchdog, his hands folded in front of him, watching them through those dark eyes that often made Garrett shiver. “Would you like some tea?”

“It doesn’t count as a visit if the last time I saw you, you were hospitalized.” She corrected, but offered a nod in confirmation towards his offer. Garrett removed his jacket, hanging it on the wall with his keys and stripping his gloves off. He set a kettle of water to boil on the stove while he gathered mugs. He looked towards the silent guard dog and decided he probably wouldn’t drink any and left it at two mugs.

“Has it really been that long?” Garrett asked, coming back around the counter to sit on the couch beside her. She turned herself to face him more fully and gave him a look that only a mother could muster at her problematic child. Garrett gave a small laugh. He remembered her coming to sit with him at the hospital, reassuring Basso so he could leave for a break. She had scolded the older man and made him take a walk, get food, to do something other than occupy the only chair in the room. Garrett had been immensely thankful for that. Basso had refused to listen to him when the thief had nagged him on it.

“I never did get a chance to properly thank you for what you did.” He admitted. She offered her hands towards him, the long red gloss of her nails shining in the lighting as they dragged gently across the tops of his hands. He turned his palms over to accept her hold. She had been his safe haven when he was young. When Harlan was on his ass or had beaten him bloody again for some problem or another. Victoria had always welcomed him into her home with open arms. There was always a seat at her table for him and something warm to eat waiting in the kitchen. For a blind woman, she was a fantastic cook though come to think of it, Garrett could have sworn she could still see back then. Her vision hadn’t completely gone yet but her eyes had the milky shine to them all the same. The neighborhood had died when she left. Or maybe she left when it had gone. He couldn’t remember well that far back. God, it had been quite a long time.

“Your thoughts linger on the past.” She spoke up, startling him to the present. The warmth that flushed across his face punctuated his embarrassment but he dismissed it quickly, knowing she wouldn’t see him blushing like a school boy caught daydreaming. She always seemed to know what was going on in his head. Infinitely wise and scary good at her job.

“There is a lot to think about.” He admitted softly, rising to his feet when the kettle started to rumble with the water boiling inside. She let him go and tend to the tea, returning a moment later with two warm mugs. He carefully handed one over to her, watching as her wrinkled old hands cupped it together and blew on the steam that rose to her nostrils.

“This is true, but the past and the future are connected Garrett. Thinking too much on one will blind you to the other. There are lessons interwoven in both.” 

“What lessons does my future have to tell me?” He spoke with a light tone, almost playful but the look on her face warranted him to doubt that this was another bout of teasing.

“Ones you have forgotten about on the night you went missing.” He stilled, gripping the mug a little too tightly in his grasp. Garrett felt the burn of the ceramic against his skin, causing him to pause and look for the coaster on his coffee table to set it aside. His pulse picking up in his chest like a jolt of electricity had been shot through him.

“You know?” He finally asked, keeping his voice even.

“It is related to that eye of yours.” She relented another hint, taking a moment to drink in the warmth of her tea. The kiss of her lipstick leaving the lightest imprint on the edge. Garrett reached up and rubbed at the scarring on his face. He could still feel the faint warmth that had stirred there, the pinprick of energy just beyond his reach. Like a buzz in his muscles, an itch he can’t quite scratch or a knot that’s just beyond stretching that quivers with the desire to be released.

“The Lieutenant is convinced he knows. Rumor has it, he does. His reach in this city is further than you anticipate.”

“Harlan?” Garrett scoffed, feeling the boiling anger that bubbled in his chest. He couldn’t help the curl of his lips, on the verge of snarling. Though, Harlan has a habit of leaving Garrett in far worse condition than he found him but if the Lieutenant knew something he didn’t, why haven’t the police raided his home yet? Why weren’t there any warrants out for his arrest? Why keep it hidden behind brick walls and murmurs of this new task force?

“What does Harlan have to do with my absence?”

“That’s for you to find out.” The Queen smiled that wicked mischievous smile that made Garrett think of the fabled trickster of old lore. The stories that fueled his youth with wonder and excitement. He crooked his jaw and stared thoughtfully while she busied herself with her tea. Their conversation shifting easily from the cryptic message to lighter topics that made it easier for Garrett to settle into and corral his thoughts. It was extremely late by the time she left and Garrett was finally able to retire himself for the night. His thoughts dancing on what she had said, clinging to it desperately for some answer he may have missed. All he could scrounge up was that he would need to pay Lieutenant Harlan a special visit. God, he never thought he’d ever consider that as a positive thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, remember when I mentioned the marks before?
> 
> Well this was your answer. Garrett's is stylized with a personal detail of a crown because of his old Alias of the Rat King. Some people have them on items such as belts, jewelry, pins, etc. And tattoos range from flowers surrounding the rat or flames, etc, whatever cool design they can come up with to help hide the mark from police catching on, and make it look like a simple cool tattoo and not a mark of the underground.
> 
> Also Garrett's inspiration for calling himself the Rat King came from Lord Ratigan which is the villain for the movie The Great Mouse Detective which is from way back in the 80's. Its an old childhood favorite. If you look at the art for the movie cover, it also shows Big Ben and there is a big scene with a Clocktower in the film. Which I thought was extremely fitting to tie all together with our fair little Garrett.
> 
> Also, I love the relationship between the Queen of Beggars and Garrett in the game. There is something soft there under the surface that is so maternal. I really wanted to show that here as well, and give more light to that bond between them since it is often overlooked.


	13. Hidden in the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corvo gets his text back, Emily is sneaky and Garrett does something stupid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some sensitive content later in the chapter. Mentions of child abuse in slightly more detail. Its nothing too graphic but still giving a heads up.

Corvo chewed on the plastic rim of his coffee cup, clicking it between his teeth idly while he watched Harlan storm around the building, madder than a wet hornet. Supposedly he found someone to squeeze for information but their lawyer undermined whatever warrants he had been trying to get from a judge. So now they lacked a suspect and had no further leads into the criminal underground theory. When he had brought it up in his verbal report to Harlan Friday afternoon, the man had a weirdly satisfied look in his eye that made Corvo grimace. He had already left for the day when the Lieutenant had brought whatever suspect it was in to be interrogated. 

It wasn't Corvo's concern as he enjoyed a very nice quiet weekend with Emily. It had warmed up a bit and they had decided it was a perfect day for bike riding and a picnic in the park. Among many other extracurriculars they could come up with both at home and away. He scrubbed away his worries involving the prolonged radio silence from Garrett and had only returned to frustrating worry when he thought he spotted the man in the parking lot as if he were waiting for someone.

It was then that he noticed the man being released from police custody, filling out the paperwork at the front desk. A curious look to Daud and a sly inquiry to the officer at the front desk later, he had come to find out the man released was Basso Boxman. It didn't take a genius to connect the dots on that. The man looked rough, like he'd spent the whole weekend in lock up. Suddenly Corvo didn't blame Garrett for not texting him back if he had spent the whole time worrying over his loved one.

He considered texting Garrett again, had started numerous messages only to second guess himself and delete them. He shoved his phone off to the side, tried to focus on the tasks at hand but still, his eyes lingered on the screen as he willed it to light up. A practice he had started taking into habit. He managed to distract himself with a series of reports that needed his utmost attention but when his stomach started to growl for lunch time and his eyes were burning from strain, he gave in.

Reaching for his phone, it vibrated under his palm and lured his excited heart to nearly jump from his chest. Caught between surprise and elation, he glimpsed the name and breathed a sigh of relief.

**Garrett**

He opened the message and read it over. 

**Sorry for not getting back to you. Life's been hectic.**

He sighed, giving it a once over and contemplating how he could come at this. He didn't want to answer it too quickly and make it look like he'd been watching for it. He tapped his fingers on the desk, contemplating just how long he should wait or if it would make him look too desperate. It seemed Garrett was aware of this predicament as he lured him out with another message.

**How are you doing?**

Corvo hummed thoughtfully, playing with his phone in his hands as he considered it. At the time, Daud came around to spot Corvo's flustered expression. 

"What are you doing?" His voice drew a startled jolt from Corvo. His head snapped around to glare at Daud, frowning at the man before sighing and stuffing his phone into his pocket. 

"Heading out for lunch. You?"

"I have a meeting." He answered simply, earning a raised brow from Corvo.

"With Harlan?"

"No. An old associate."

Corvo gave a mock gasp, eyes widening. "You have friends?" His lips pulled into a smirk as Daud returned a glare, both of them falling into step as they headed for the front doors. "Or is this a lunch date?"

"I don't date." Daud answered simply, his voice holding a flat unamused note to it. "Speaking of dates, heard back from Boxman yet?"

Corvo sighed, running his finger up to catch the falling strands of dark hair already slipping from his ponytail. He adjusted them behind his ear and shrugged. "Sort of. It's complicated I guess."

"What are you, a high school girl?" Daud chided, earning a playful swat to the shoulder from Corvo.

"Last time I let you in on my private life." It lacked any heat in it. Corvo appreciated Daud's banter with him. He didn't often talk to the others he worked with and it offered a nice source of relief during the stressful hours to just pick at and prod each other to lighten the mood. He guessed he could thank Harlan for sticking them both on the task force. He's spoken more with Daud in the last couple weeks than he has the entire almost year he's been on the department. The man was blunt and straight laced but also rather entertaining and genuinely a pretty good guy. He knew his shit which was refreshing compared to all the badges on the force that couldn't figure out a fax machine to save their life.

He parted ways with Daud at the parking lot, each slipping into their respective vehicles and heading out. Corvo had stopped in at the deli down the street to pick up a sandwich and a drink, sitting in his patrol car while he ate and listened to the scanner. He finally got around to text Garrett back, claiming he just went on lunch break and got his text. They fumbled back and forth, the first few messages felt awkward, trying to get over the initial hump after so many days of radio silence. But then things picked up. Corvo found out Garrett had fixed whatever the thief had done to his bike, confirming that he hadn’t done much aside from scratch up the paint where he struggled with his tool in the limited lighting and freezing cold.

He sent Corvo a picture of his new helmet, this time it had a visor with a purplish hue to it that transitioned in the lighting to an iridescent kaleidoscope of colors depending on the angle. Corvo noted the feline like style with little details like the folded back ears of a panther and the snout like front. 

Corvo informed him cheerfully that he had taken Garrett’s advice and tried out a few of the recipes he had sent him. One of which was at home in a crock-pot cooking away for his and Emily’s dinner tonight. He spent a good portion of the night before watching YouTube videos on how to prepare the meat without drying it out or under seasoning it.

Before long, Corvo had to return to work. But their conversation picked up once more when he had returned home at the end of his shift, sharing pictures of the slow cooking pulled pork. They transitioned from texting to an actual phone call, since Corvo’s hands were busy preparing their meal and Garrett was coaching him through the process of easy made garlic bread and an additional sauce that could be added on the side.

“You sound like a pro.” Corvo joked, glancing at his phone where it sat on the counter. Garrett’s soft laugh filtering loudly over the speaker. The sound of running water could be heard in the background along with the clinking of dishes. Corvo assumed he must be in his kitchen. 

“I just got really good at trial and error.” He answered simply. “Basso’s job sometimes takes him out of the country and I would stay home to watch Jenivere. Had plenty of time to practice cooking for myself.” Corvo smiled, imagining a younger version of Garrett standing in the kitchen like a little kid trying to imitate what he saw on television, grimacing at little mistakes and scrapping it to start all over.

“Did you cook for Basso?” Corvo asked while he chopped up a few vegetables to add to a side salad for him and Emily. She was in her room going over her homework from school, filling out the new project in her science class. Apparently it involved taking care of a plant they had started growing and they need to keep a detailed journal of its growth.

Corvo turned towards the hot skillet on the stove and checked on the state of the bread, giving it a flip and repeating for the other three pieces. “Sometimes. Basso was supportive but after the Salt & Sugar incident, he was slightly more apprehensive to play guinea pig.”

“Salt and sugar incident?” Corvo asked with a small laugh edging out.

“I mixed the sugar and salt up while making cookies. Basso never let me live that down.” Garrett admitted. “I don’t blame him. Even Jenivere wouldn’t eat them.” He could almost hear the grimace on the other end of the phone as Garrett recalled the fiasco. 

Corvo chuckled, offering a moment of sympathy. “I bet they tasted better than the cookies I burnt the first time I gave it a try. They looked like hockey pucks.”

“How do you ruin cookies like that?” Garrett blurted in disbelief.

Corvo sighed. “Well, for starters, I forgot to use a timer.” Which was the story of his life. Timers were the bane of his existence and it always slipped his mind that ovens had those sorts of features built in. Then again, he could barely figure out how to program the_ time _ on it let alone the _ timer _.

“Ooh that is an amateur mistake.” Garrett hissed in disappointment.

“Sort of like mixing salt and sugar?” Corvo countered earning a soft grumble from Garrett. Corvo chuckled, giving the garlic bread another flip and smiling. “I think it’s about done. I should probably get Emily and hear from the expert on how well I did.” 

“Ooh, sounds like a tough critic. You have your work cut out for you.” Garrett teased before letting out a sigh. “I gotta get going anyway. Text me and let me know how it goes.”

“I’ll tell you if I should hang up my chef’s hat after this or not.” He teased back, earning another soft laugh from Garrett. The sound made Corvo’s heart flutter in his chest. His face lit up with a broad smile as they ended their call and stayed long after Corvo had plated their dinner, calling Emily out from her room.

He caught the glimpse of hazelnut eyes peering around the corner at him, trying to look as convincingly innocent as possible. Corvo raised a brow as she lightly approached the table with a small mischievous smile that reached right up to her eyes. Corvo didn’t need all his years of expertise on the force to know she was up to something. “Emily?” He asked, setting their plates in their respective spots. She smiled at him, a toothy sort of smile that raised all sorts of flags in the back of Corvo’s mind.

“Soo….” She started, glancing up at him with her head tilted to the side. Her jaw length brown hair tucked behind one ear and clipped in place with a butterfly barrette as she wove her fingers together expectantly. It was moments like these that reminded him of Jessamine and that studious playful look that she’d aim his way when she was up to no good and she was seeing how long it would take for him to catch on. “Who’s Garrett?”

She slipped into her seat as Corvo set down in his own after placing their drinks down. She tucked her hand under her chin, adorable smirk on her lips as she stared at him expectantly, blinking big doe eyes at him. Corvo raised a brow at that, considering how to explain the situation and even if he should admit that Garrett was an interest in his life. Maybe that was for a day when she was older and would better understand, or maybe he should wait before putting labels on anything to ensure they would actually take this beyond friendship. Introducing someone into his daughter’s life was a touchy subject. Sighing, he gave in to a decision.

“He’s just a friend of mine. He was helping me out.” Corvo explained simply, dodging the look she aimed at him that silently called him out for his bullshit. '_ She is definitely her mother’s child.' _ He thought. She even had Jessamine’s look that could kill, nearly mastered at this point with how often she directed it at him.

“Is he the friend you were with last week?” 

“He is.”

“What’s he like?” Corvo didn’t realize he was doing a pop quiz now. 

“I’ll tell you if you eat first.” He gestured at the plate in front of her. Emily glanced down at it thoughtfully before taking up a fork and gave it a look of serious consideration. She made it look like she was fearful it would poison her with the way she picked at it. Which made him wonder about his past cooking now. Was he really _ that bad? _

He was relieved when she did finally take a bite and appeared to appreciate it as something edible. He thought he had steered clear of answering anymore inquiries, when after several bites she repeated her question. Corvo sighed around his sandwich and relented. Taking a moment to suck the barbecue sauce off of his thumb and make an approving noise at using the garlic bread as a bun substitute.

* * *

Garrett had spent a good amount of the afternoon preparing for the task at hand. He took care not to tell Basso of his exploits tonight, knowing the fence would be furious and try to stop him if he did. Victoria’s words hung heavily in his mind and tormented him with questions all night last night. He gave up on any ambition of getting sleep and started planning. He checked all of his gear, tested it for any flaws and frays and inspected his bow. His bike was already in good working order, proven by the two short laps he did around the neighborhood earlier that afternoon.

Normally giving the target location a good once over before carrying out the mission, Garrett knew better than to risk that with this job. It was personal and the man was a lunatic. He couldn’t hope that his neighbors weren’t just as bad and rolling through on his bike in a quick pass or even just jogging by would raise too many red flags and get him noticed. He wasn't fond of going in blind but he did have the upper hand of having a rough idea as to what to expect. It didn't take much effort to find blueprints of the building construction and an old site that had once listed the house in question on the market, showing images of the home's interior set up. It was as good as he would get.

For a police Lieutenant, Harlan had a very nice home in the Auldale and Dayport area. Settled nicely on the boundary line in a quiet little suburb. It was a gated community, come to find out, but even gates and underpaid security guards couldn't stop him from carrying out his job. He parked his bike two streets over to avoid the suspicions of the patrolling security unit outside of the gates. He watched from the shadows, timing the guard patrols and how long it took them to do their rounds. In one hour, they did six rounds, giving him a ten minute opening to get in and if timed properly, another ten minute window out. 

Scaling the brick exterior wall was easy enough. He avoided the bright LED lights of the overhead street lamps as he slipped over the wall into the shrubbery of a neighboring backyard. He counted the lots, figuring out which building was Harlan's and making his way through the shadows of his neighborhood. Some houses had motion sensor cameras installed, causing him to pause and time his movements carefully as he clambered over the fences. There was always a few seconds of delayed frame. If he moved fast enough, he'd just be a blur at best across the screen, that's even if the camera catches a glimpse in the first place. His cloak did a wonderful job of distorting his figure on surveillance, looking more like a phantom and less like a living person.

He stayed low to the ground, working around a yard that had a dog house. He cursed under his breath and examined it closely for movement. His fears abated when he realized it was in fact, utterly empty. They spiked again with the concern that said canine was tucked away somewhere else in the yard. He made quick work to vacate the premises and carry on to the next house over, finding himself in the back of Harlan's home.

Just like his neighbors, Harlan had motion activated cameras. These ones had a limited range to their sensors, allowing him to stay just on the outside of their view and work in their blind spots. It was tricky, but Garrett managed to stay hidden and edge his way along the shadows of the fence towards the back door. He bypassed the door itself and clambered instead, up the siding towards the first peak of the roof and edged along it carefully. He frowned as he stepped gingerly on the shingles, feeling them unsteady under his foot and in dire need of repair in places. 

"You really need to clean your gutters. I bet your HOA won't be happy if they saw this." He grimaced, taking care in how he stepped, avoiding any heavy foot falls or slick areas as he worked his way towards the window. If the mental map he had in his head was correct, this would lead him to the upstairs bathroom that sat off on it's own. Luckily, unattached to any other room.

He ran his fingers along the frame thoughtfully. The window wasn't necessarily complicated but he'd rather not break the glass and alert Harlan to his presence. He took a tool out of his pouch and started shimmying the frame out of its weather proofed seal, working the top piece off first and setting it aside. After that, the second piece was easy and he could slide them back into place, removing the locking mechanism and making for an easy escape when he finished. He found himself perched on the bathroom sink, inspecting the absolute mess that was the man's house. The foul odor was bad enough to be considered a truck stop restroom. Garrett grimaced, glad his mask was working as a filter to keep some of the reek away but sadly not all. The floor had a disgustingly sticky quality to the bottom of his boots that he really didn't want to think about.

Oddly enough, it reminded him of hiding in the boy's locker room in high school to avoid the wrestling team. He may have picked the locks to their lockers and stolen most of their lunch money but he counted it as fair when he had witnessed them taking from other students and overheard them gloating about swiping from their parent's wallets.

Of course this was more than just stealing from a wallet. He peered out of the bathroom doorway and inspected the hall. He scowled at the faint blue glow coming from the master bedroom but after a moment of listening in, he heard the telltale sounds of the old hobgoblin snoring away. Satisfied, he turned the opposite direction, aiming for the doorway across the hall. There wasn't any room he could consider as an office space for the lower levels of the house but assumed the guest bedroom would be fair game.

He was rewarded for his sleuthing when he turned the knob and opened the door. His heart nearly stopped when a stack of notebooks balanced precariously on the floor had nearly toppled from the motion. Garrett grabbed them gently and settled them in their skyscraper imitation. The walls were plastered with newspapers and printed out imagery, tacked into the plaster and in some areas, strung together with twine. It looked like something from a bad detective movie and was considerably more creepy when Garrett noticed that numerous images had been of him. Some were recent, photos of him sitting on his bike at different places around town such as restaurants, grocery stores and that one time he had been sitting at the park and enjoying an ice cream in the summer heat.

But a vast majority were older, from years back when he was a minor. Pictures of him with Basso, some showed him walking home from school with his backpack slung over his shoulder. A few were from the summer when he had taken up cutting people's grass at Basso's encouragement to learn responsibility and the value of a hard earned dollar. He was sixteen at the time and had taken his shirt off in the heat and tied it around his waist. His pale skin was sun scorched on his shoulders and forearms, as well as across his cheeks. His hair was much longer and swept up into a messy ponytail. Garrett winced at just how tiny and frail he looked back then. His stomach rolled with increasing unease when he spotted another photo. Again, he was a minor and he was dressed down to just a pair of boxers. His body was littered with wounds and bruises, face swollen on one side where a black eye was already forming accompanied by a split lip that was still bleeding in the image. It had been a police report from long before he met Basso and before his first run in with Harlan.

The roadwork of bruises covered his arms, torso, legs and neck. The imprint of fingers left behind by large hands. He had minor lacerations and abrasions on his elbows and knees.

Garrett felt his blood run cold the longer he looked at this. The image had been placed front and center amidst the ungodly collage that he was pretty sure was considered illegal. He doubted Harlan was doing anything appropriate with those pictures like solving any real crimes. Garrett knew the man's obsession was bad but he didn't know it was like this. It made him itchy and eager to get this done and leave. His hand ached faintly as he curled his fingers into a tight fist, forcing away the reminiscent twinge of phantom pain and the choking fear that bubbled up in his chest. The heat that curled along the nape of his neck like he had walked into the heart of a predator's lair. He didn't have the luxury to lose himself to his past. It was too dangerous to let those feelings in, not here anyway.

Forcing himself to continue on, swallowing back the rough ball that settled in his throat, he maneuvered his way carefully through the stacks of folders and piles of case boxes. One after another had some connection back to Garrett and some job he had done along the way. It took everything he had not to want to light a match and set this whole fucking place on fire.

Eventually, he made it to his goal. Slipping behind the desk, he started to access Harlan's computer. Luckily the idiot left it on sleep mode and he slipped through any security precautions left to stop would be snoopers. He plugged in his special software into the USB port and started working his magic. With the sheer amount of files on the man's computer, he didn't have the luxury to hunt and peck through them all. He highlighted the most important folders and started moving them to his device while skimming through open emails and scrolling back the last few months.

His fingers worked quickly across the keyboard as he saved everything he could find that even remotely looked useful, including several emails involving Mayor Northcrest and mentions of Moira Asylum. Garrett felt the heat return to his eye, that warm buzzing that settled in his skull like electricity humming in his ears. The world shifted into a blue haze as he fought through the growing pain. The sound of voices whispering in his ear. Echoed orders that were far too loud. He covered his eye with one hand, stumbling back and catching a stack of binders behind him. They started to slide and hit the wall with a loud thud. His heart stopped, he listened through the rushing of his blood in his ears for any sound of Harlan rousing from his sleep. He was met with silence.

Collecting what he could quickly, he left a little present for the Lieutenant in the morning. Tucking the USB back into his pouch, he started for the door when the heavy footfalls followed down the hallway. He paused, listening. Eyes fixed on the doorway with bated breath. He turned quickly towards the window overlooking the other half of the roof, slipping the locking mechanism free and sliding it up in the frame. It squeaked loudly and the footsteps sped up without any hitch. Garrett glanced back over his shoulder in time to see Harlan careen around the corner and knock several stacks of papers, binders and boxes over in one big chaotic rush. His eyes wild as he glared through the darkness, face twisted up into a hideous snarl. Garrett offered a wave to the man before darting out the window and racing across the roof. The sound of Harlan screaming filled the cold night air and shot a giddy sort of elation through Garrett's body. 

"Thief!"

Garrett dropped down into the backyard and quickly made his escape back the way he came. Security had split up and started combing the neighborhood with flashlights but Garrett had already dropped over the wall and darted across the street, heading back towards his bike to make his clean escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for the timeline in case anyone is struggling with it.
> 
> Garrett was assaulted and that photograph was taken when he was 11-12 yrs old.  
He first encountered Harlan when he was 13  
He met Basso when he was 14  
And he is 29 now.
> 
> Garrett had a lot of growing and recovering to do and Basso helped him through a lot of his traumas and problems. Encouraging him to learn how to defend himself, how to sustain himself if anything were to happen to Basso. He wanted to make sure Garrett never had to return to the life he had before.
> 
> Also, yes. if you haven't noticed what I was hinting at yet, Thadeus is a major creep and a pedophile. He has had a weird obsession with Garrett since he was a kid. He talks about and treats Garrett with a condescending tone because he still sees him as that small frail kid that was living on the streets. Even calling him "little Garrett" despite Garrett being a grown adult. He has a lot of hang ups about that and too many to get into here. I just wanted to confirm that for those who might not have figured it out, that's what I've been hinting at this whole time.


	14. Expect the Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neither Harlan nor Garrett are having a good day.
> 
> Corvo on the other hand, is having a pretty good day for once.

The station was buzzing with activity when Corvo entered to start his shift that morning. Everyone was on high alert, jumping at the slightest bang or elevated volume of a voice. The receptionist was flighty and a good amount of officers had scrambled to take patrol as quickly as possible. Come to find out, Harlan was on the war path and had already reamed more than half the staff _ twice _before the next shift even started. He decided to avoid the man as much as possible, taking his coffee to his desk and rifling through the files left next to his computer. He had fifteen minutes of peace, glancing up only when Daud entered the building with a tired expression and what looked to be on his second coffee of the day, his cup refilled with the swill from the break room.

The other officer greeted him with a subtle nod, grey eyes falling to the papers on his desk as he pulled his chair out and made to sit. He was interrupted by the loud yell from the back office. “Daud! Attano! Meeting Room 3!” Harlan stormed out of his office with a snarl, his boots clicking loudly on the tile as he disappeared down one of the halls.

Daud grumbled under his breath and Corvo sympathized with the man. Gathering up his coffee cup, he headed for the meeting room, pausing to let Daud catch up and falling into step beside him.

“Somebody’s grouchy.” Corvo hummed, taking a swig of his drink.

Daud pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “He’s been here for the last four hours terrorizing third shift.” He explained. The information made Corvo wonder how long Daud had been here already and second guessed that maybe that wasn’t just his second cup of coffee. 

When they entered the designated meeting room, the stacks of files remained tucked on the two carts and some were spread out in organized heaps around a notebook and some coffee stained paper scraps. Three other officers from the task force were already seated and looked exhausted. Two more filed in behind them with their mugs and settled into their usual seats. Harlan stood at the front of the room where his projector was set up and the screen pulled down. The white light of the projector spread across it, leaking off the edges where it was askew. Harlan’s laptop was set beside it, the screen lit up as he plugged it in and showed the generic blue backdrop with a handful of folders and browsers lining the sides. The last officer in had shut the door behind them, ensuring their privacy even just a little though Corvo didn’t doubt things were about to get loud given the red faced look their superior was aiming at them.

“Our little thief paid me a visit last night.” Harlan started, his palms pressed flat over the dark wood surface of the table. “He broke into my house.”

The officers all looked around the table at each other, wide eyed and startled. Sure, their thief was brazen, going into highly secure areas but often those places were public or belonged to wealthy citizens. There wasn’t any records of them invading the homes of the police officers pursuing them.

“Did they take anything?” An officer inquired. The neutral pronoun having been adopted by most of the men as they contemplated the true gender of their assailant. Daud’s image of the corset put a few men out of sorts at the thought that some woman was infiltrating all of these places.

“No. I caught him in the act of searching my home but he fled through a window.” Harlan explained, holding up a flashdrive in one hand. “The evidence from the crime scene.” It was an ECPD thumbdrive. Presumably what Harlan had been in his office doing before calling the meeting, compiling photographic evidence of the break in. Normally it was protocol to call a unit out to case the scene of the crime but Corvo guessed the Lieutenant would rather that not spread among their ranks that the esteemed Thadeus Harlan got duped by a simple thief. Except, this thief was far from simple.

Harlan tapped the keypad of his laptop to wake it up then inserted the thumbdrive. It took a few seconds for it to sync to his device and open. He clicked on the first file of photographs, the rest of the room watching in boredom while the screen went black. Harlan frowned, tapped on his keypad a couple times and angled the laptop to check the battery life. Then suddenly, without any warning at all, the speakers flared up loudly to the animalistic sounds of moaning and crying out. The black screen revived to several different videos popping up and playing all at once. All of which were of a pornographic nature, some of elderly people having sex and some of people dressed in anthropomorphic fur suits. There was colorful cartoon art of humanoid animals divulging in grotesque acts of extreme insertions and body modifications.

The noises only got louder as numerous pop up ads sprouted faster than Harlan could exit out of them. He tapped the power button quickly, face blood red and veins bulging in his neck as the onslaught drew people to the hallway outside of the meeting room. The officers in the room could barely conceal their amusement, hands clapped over their mouths, heads turned and trying their damnedest to remain as professional as possible. Eventually Harlan realized to unplug the device to at least mute some of the noise as women screeched and moaned with shameless vulgarity and deep voiced men growled out profanity towards them, giving detailed descriptions of what they intended to do to their promiscuous partners.

Of all the people in the room, Daud seemed the least affected by the whole scene. His grey eyes narrowed tiredly at Corvo who was biting his knuckle to stay quiet and not further enrage their superior. Corvo’s lips quivering and stifled huffs in his chest as he tried to conceal the laughter. The frantic squealing from the laptop broke them all and the room exploded in a raucous. Harlan was furious, his fingers curled into tight fists as he contained his rage and the urge to shatter the laptop against the table. Eventually he did manage to power it down and maybe even broke the button on it in the process from sheer force alone. He retrieved the thumb drive and stormed out of the room, forcing the gathered staff that peered around the corners and from the safety of their offices to scatter like roaches in the light.

* * *

  
  


_ Shadows swirled around him, mistlike phantoms that swayed to their own haunting silence, a ballet of fractured light piercing the waves above. A shimmering world he couldn’t reach, bubbling up from his lips the lost efforts of his struggles for air. Lungs burning, a raging fire in his chest as he gasped. Hands clawing at the water as it pulled him further down, unseen tendrils wrapping around his legs and binding them together. The frantic kicks and silent screams were smothered by the abyssal world swallowing him up. Hands reached from the rocky crevices, snatching at his arms as he twisted and struggled. Fingers curling into his hair and yanking his head back. _

_ The large form of a shadow moved, lurching forward like a shapeless shifting titan. The dark haze blotting out the edges of his vision, tinged blues and distorted greens. Pain pierced his right hand, searing through the cold chill that seeped into his bones. The ache of ice that clutched to every inch of him ebbing away from his fingertips with fire. Dark lumps floated up, spreading into clouds of red that billowed like heavy smoke all around him. The taste of copper bitter on his tongue as water lapped at his throat. _

_ The shape circled him, always lurking, always watching with cold eyes he could not see. It vanished from view as he wrenched himself away from the grip. His right hand grasping blindly for leverage as he freed his legs. He squeezed his eyes shut, kicked as hard as he could but the light that dazzled above him earlier was gone now. Only a murky shadow that surrounded him remained. Movement in his peripheral, the glint of nails catching his eye, agony carved into his face as they bit into his right cheek. He screamed but there was no sound. There was no air left in his lungs and soon the nails clenched tightly around his throat. Squeezing. Harder and harder until he felt his head was going to pop. His blood rushing loudly in his ears like the thunderous burst of a waterfall cascading death over his existence. _

_ A flicker of white, the glint of gnarled teeth spread into a twisted mocking smile. Voices lingering in his ears, taunting him. Goading him to do something. To fight back. To make his agony a sweeter meal to come. To bleed more for the predator that stalked him, ringing in their ire. _

  
  


Garrett woke up with a body wracking cough, gasping for air that felt like too little. His lungs heaving quickly as he tried to resupply. Sweat plastered his shirt to his skin, twisted and tight around his neck as he clawed at his collar to loosen it. He scrambled to peel it away, freeing him of the restraints. He reached up with trembling hands, rubbing at his neck, feeling the thundering pulse of his heart just beneath the surface. The rampaging beat like a raging storm striking through his veins. His palms slid up across his face, oily and damp from sleep. The wet smears of tears drying on his temples made him shiver. His throat constricted with a hard swallow.

His bed was a twisted mess of blankets and sheets thrown over the edges and bound around his legs. His pillow was half shoved between the mattress and headboard, leaving him lying mostly on the bare mattress with no covers. Garrett shimmied to the edge of the bed and let his legs hang down. His gaze stretched from the dark wood floors towards the clocktower on his nightstand with the digital numbers sharing the time with him. It was a few minutes after 12, the scant rays of sunlight peeking between his curtains confirmed that. The gentle ticking of the clock hands ushering a minute relief over him.

He pushed himself up to stand, testing how stable he was before heading into the bathroom to try and salvage his sanity. The cold water splashed to his face helped sober him up a little but it didn’t stop the tremors that lingered or the detached sensation of still wading through nightmares and not realizing it. He pressed his thumb firmly into the center of his hand, pinching the nerve to elicit pain enough to confirm that he was, genuinely awake.

Despite the abundance of sleep he had gotten, Garrett felt as if he'd hardly stolen a wink of it. He curled his fingers into tight fists and let out a shaky breath. He reached up and combed his hands through his hair, watching it spike up awkwardly before brushing it out again. The sensation of soft locks teasing along his palms before he withdrew with another heavy sigh. His attention falling to his bluish green eye, the pale lines of scarring were jagged around the dark bags beneath. Small rivers of red outlined it with weariness. He ignored the pulsing in his head, the remaining pain from his dreams sending quivers through his muscles. He considered taking Basso's earlier advice and just taking the day off for himself.

The weather outside unanimously agreed with the fluctuating glow creeping in. Garrett moved to cross his living room and tug on the curtains, only to be greeted with the dark clouds moving in and the heavy gloom of passing storm clouds creeping over the city. The previous days of sunshine and heat were absent. Drawing his curtains back to block the day out, he shuffled towards his couch and plopped onto it. His fingers automatically curling into the thin grey fuzzy blanket he kept folded by the adjacent arm. He snagged it over himself and settled into the plush leather cushions with another sigh.

He sat in the quiet of his apartment for several minutes before getting the urge to turn his t.v on. He fished the remote out of the slightly cluttered pile on his coffee table between the flashdrive from last night and his laptop and the stacks of notes and papers he had jotted down. Little mental notes about his conversation with Victoria and the rough timeline of events that occurred around the time of the incident. Anything that could possibly be helpful that his brain could recall. It had all been in preparation to sneak into Harlan's home but now that he secured that information, it didn't feel much like a victory. His satisfaction trumped by the backlash he was feeling now. Figures, he shouldn't have gone there in the first place.

It had been years since he'd last been under Harlan's fist, subject to the man's violence. He thought he had overcome those dark days. That he had healed from it. Going to the heart of the devil's lair was a terrible idea. Not to mention stupidly dangerous. It had ripped open all his old wounds and laid them fresh for the salt of the world to grind into all over again. He felt run down, exhausted. He wanted to curl up on himself and just disappear.

The droning of the television wasn't even enough to soothe his mood. He flipped through several channels to distract himself before giving up and settling on one. Garrett tucked his arms over his chest and hunkered down into the blankets with his knees folded close. His face pushed into the throw pillow on the couch as he stuffed himself into the crook of the furniture arm and let his weary thoughts fade. The darkened apartment offered some serenity to his upset and sleep danced on the edges of his mind.

It felt like only moments had passed, a brief glimpse of that which eluded him all night. The faint blue mist encircling the world around him as he blinked through the fog that hazed over the world. A cloud lingering on the edges of his vision, unable to disperse from view no matter how hard he tried. The sound of voices echoing in his mind, dragging through his thoughts and ringing loudly in his ears. A voice reaching the forefront, so prominent and crisp. He shivered at the familiarity.

_ “These experiments of yours better work Aldous.” _

Elias Northcrest’s voice rang loudly out before him. Garrett turned, searching the fog for his figure, looking for any sign of the man but all he could see was cracked white tile and water stained walls. An abandoned metal cart spread fear through his chest, covered in neatly arranged medical tools, syringes lying in the open, needles still capped and prepared for some form of treatment. A door banged open behind him and before he could consciously move, he found his feet running. The flash of a room up ahead. _ #31 _

He slipped through the frame and shut it quietly behind himself. The wails of voices erupting around him, bouncing off the tiny claustrophobic brick walls that crowded in. The rustle of keys jingling as doors were wrenched away from their frames and a woman screamed in despair. Garrett stepped back away from the door as boot steps passed his room, tucking himself under the lonely gurney that occupied the space, too old to be in use in a normal hospital and outfitted with barbaric old leather straps. He dragged his cloak all the way under, pressing himself into the dirty cobweb crippled corner and held his breath behind his mask as voices argued in the halls.

_ “They can be healed! New life will rise where death has plagued it.” _

_ “This is madness Aldous! Do you even hear yourself? I’ve had enough of your foolishness.” _

A voice started to interject but was silenced. A pause stretched out. 

_ “Why is that door closed?” _ The man Garrett assumed to be Aldous interrupted the Mayor’s scolding words.

The world flickered in waves like a sun scorched road, blue tinged heat rising off of the surfaces as they faded like steam. The searing pain struck through his right eye just as the door opened. The heavy thump of boots pushing through, familiar strides that clicked with purpose.

“I know you’re in here Rat King.”’ Garrett’s veins filled with ice as the world snapped out of the haze and he was sitting frozen on his couch. Hands encircled his throat, strong and formidable and so terrifyingly familiar. The gnarled smile of the Lieutenant himself sneered down at him with twisted satisfaction. His weight pressing in on top of Garrett, his knee pinning the thief’s arms against his chest. Garrett tried to scream, to wiggle free of the figure that loomed over him.

“I finally found you thief.” Garrett’s eyes widened, panic curling tight in his chest. The sudden rush of blood as adrenaline spiked was a torrent of white noise in his ears. He whimpered, gasping furiously for breath that wouldn’t come. Harlan’s grip tightened, made the pressure build in his skull like the man intended to pop his eyes right out of his head if the grip didn’t snap his neck first. He clenched his teeth, a hiss of air barely slipping by as he tried to scream. He wanted to call for help. Hoped one of his neighbors would come to save him or at least know to come find his corpse later. There was nothing that ensured Harlan wouldn’t murder him on the spot.

“You think you can steal from me and get away?” Harlan growled, his head cocking to the side, green eyes burning with an amused sort of hatred. Like tiny storms whipping within the orbs, bloodshot on the edges and worn with age and stress. The reek of the man’s breath was hot against his skin, the stench of Harlan’s house returning to Garrett’s senses as he struggled not to gag, if only from the fear that he’d asphyxiate on it like this. “Hm, the things I intend to do to you Rat King.” The pleased snarl made Garrett’s heart plummet into his stomach. The pain that spread across his body was just a sample of the acts Harlan intended to bring to Garrett’s existence.

He gasped, felt the grip loosening on his neck and fear replace the firm hold like a noose. The pressure of Harlan’s body against his lightened, allowing Garrett to heave a breath. The pain in his arms as muscles flexed desperately to free themselves ached in his joints. Fire spreading in his bones as his hands flew up defensively, his body betraying his instincts to flee and instead curling in tighter on himself. Hands wrapped around his head as he buried his face. Garrett anticipated the first of many blows to come, prepared himself for the inevitable pain of his abuser. Seconds ticked by, punctuated by the soft clicking of his clock. Silence grew heavy on the air as he gasped and shuddered on the cushions. Hot tears streaming down his face when he finally dared a look up.

His mismatched eyes searched his apartment for the man but found nothing. No sign or shadow. No open doors. The deadbolt still firmly latched on his door, the chain locked in place betraying his senses. He felt the weight of relief and terror come crashing down over him in one monumental heave that had him racing for the bathroom and dry heaving the scant amount of contents in his stomach. His fingers gripping the porcelain until they hurt, knuckles nearly as white as the surface. The burn in his chest accompanied the pain that blossomed throughout the rest of his body, heavy like lead weights had been dropped from very high up and wrenched his body into a ragdoll array of directions. He reached for tissue with trembling hands, tearing it away with uncoordinated jerky motions to wipe his mouth clean and try to dismiss the tear tracks that continued to fall.

His shoulders trembled between hard full body sobs that choked him. He shoved the bathroom door shut in one quick hard movement, locked the doorknob and tucked himself into the corner against the cool wall of the bathtub. His knees folded firmly against his chest as he roped his arms around himself and rocked slowly back and forth. His fingers scratching over his biceps as he clawed desperately to hold himself. The pale scars that spread the length of his body were terrifying reminders he wished he could erase. The pain that had been inflicted beyond what flesh could heal, wounds so deep that gouged at the most primal part of himself. He sniffled, neck craned and eyes squeezed shut as warm tears dropped to his skin and quickly cooled. His head shoved between his knees as he focused on breathing and willed away the bitter pungent bile that burned in his throat and the little hiccups that threatened to gag him further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was not how i had initially planned to end that chapter but things changed and poor Garrett's old traumas have come back fresh in his head. He's struggling to figure out what's going on and is ready to throw in the towel.
> 
> Also, for those of you unaware, Garrett had a run in with a little something called Sleep Paralysis and his hallucination demon is Harlan.


	15. All You Can Eat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrett finally gets that Prime Rib he wanted and Corvo is making moves.

A few days had passed and Garrett had resigned himself to remaining inside his apartment focusing on a few side projects and a job designing a new website for a burger joint that had just opened in town. He had left long enough to talk to the owner and get a couple burgers then returned home within the hour. Never staying out for long, even to pick up his mail from downstairs. It had become a race back up to his apartment with the quivering of muscles in his back as phantom assailants lurked behind him, threatening to lunge from his blindspots. He kept his door locked, checking it three and four times a day. The first night after his meltdown, he slept in the bathroom, curled into the tub with a couple blankets wrapped around him to insulate himself.

His back hurt too much the next day to repeat it and he relented to sleep on the couch instead. By the fourth night, he gave in and slept in his bed again, his eyes fixed on the door with wariness at every noise. The slightest creak or groan of the wind, the voices of his neighbors talking in the stairwell below. The subtle vibrations he’d grown numb to of doors being opened and closed with more force than they’re meant to.

He was doing his best to distract himself. He avoided his phone, only sending brief texts to Basso to update him on his activities and making mention that he was taking a break from jobs to catch up on his day job. What little he had. Web design wasn’t all that time consuming for him. It took roughly a day, two days max to finish the job and that included all the bells and whistles. Well, as long as his client gave him all the necessary information ahead of time. If he was ill equipped, then it would take longer than necessary. It was casual mind numbing work. Music playing in the background to ease his thoughts into routine as his fingers clicked across the keyboard. It was cathartic. The sound of a computer under his touch manifesting satisfaction in his mind and soothing his earlier nerves.

Garrett knew Basso would worry if he had gone radio silent without giving a heads up, and from the texts he had sent, he could tell the man was still concerned. It wasn't often that Garrett would ignore potential jobs for menial task work, that is, unless something was up. Or, in the extra rare occasion, the weather was working against him. But the weather had been pleasant these last few days, with more sunshine than rain and fewer clouds in the way. Though, he found it hard to enjoy the sun and warmth, opting to hide himself away in the dim lighting of his apartment while he worked on his laptop. He would get up to stretch, get food and something to drink. Sometimes taking a quick nap on the couch to rest his eyes when the pain of strain was becoming too much and his corneas felt like they were burning.

He flipped open his phone in idle hours and would read over old text messages. Some of them from Basso as the man obviously wanted to say something about the situation and had lightly hinted at it in offering an olive branch of assistance. Garrett politely declined or side stepped the topic altogether with a mention of being busy at the moment.

He sighed, scrolling down the log when he startled suddenly. His phone vibrated in his hand, the soft chirp of a muffled alert with the name prominently displayed across the screen.

**Corvo**

It was a simple enough inquiry. A subtle request to get something to eat later in the day. It left an opening for Garrett to pick lunch or dinner. Or decline altogether.

He sighed, glancing towards his kitchen and the realization that he was running low on groceries and didn't have the extra motivation to be productive and make dinner himself. This offer had the promise of food he wouldn't have to work for and a genuinely pleasant company. Company that could easily keep trouble away. The fears that had plagued him the last few days slowly ebbed away as he forced himself to do something other than sulk and hide. He had to all but physically kick himself in the ass to get up and muster through showering and looking like a decent human being. It was a 2 hour long process of arguing with himself and slinking a few inches at a time like a conflicted worm on an all too big leaf. He was listless and wandered around his apartment without realizing what he had intended to do.

Garrett honestly hated these days. The lack of motion and routine were infuriating and it took so much extra energy to force himself through simple everyday habits. Like doing laundry, washing dishes and even just showering. He probably wouldn't have even climbed out of bed if it wasn't for the fact that he physically can not stand the taste of his own mouth in the mornings and _ has _to get up and brush his teeth. The fickle little details were what kept him in motion until he shuffled down the four levels of stairs to the ground floor. He had hunkered himself inside his leather jacket, the black scarf pulled around his neck and face to hide behind as an extra layer of comfort. His hands clad in his finger cut gloves were stuffed into the front pockets of his jacket. There was a light enough breeze that kept the air nippy but when it settled, the sun beat down on his back and made him stretch pleasantly.

It wasn't a very far walk to the establishment Corvo had mentioned. The soft thump of his boots on concrete was a welcome sound as he stretched his legs and relished the sensation of fresh air on his face. His eyes scanning the streets and their idle activity through the dark lenses of his sunglasses. It didn't take long for him to spot the establishment or the rather large man standing in front of it expectantly. Corvo was dressed in a light jacket with a button up navy blue shirt this time. Garrett took a moment to appreciate the Dad style he sported and admired the toned proportions now clearly visible in those jeans. It was a shame they didn't share the same detail while clad in those police blues but beggars can't be choosers he supposed. Seeing Corvo at this angle almost made it worth leaving the apartment for. Though Garrett was questioning the man's choice of man bun. Part of him wanted to snatch the rubber tie out of his hair and make him go all natural but there was one glaring problem. He wasn't tall enough to reach said offending detail.

Garrett extracted a hand to wave at Corvo in greeting, closing the distance between them. The smile that split across the officer’s face was unfairly pretty and now he really wanted to snatch that hair tie free. The scant few strands that had slipped out in the wind now hung to frame his rugged jawline. Garrett huffed inwardly with a twitchy need to touch. 

Corvo gave a small laugh as his snagged the end of Garrett’s scarf as it blew between them, smacking him in the chest when a particularly strong gust caught them. It wasn’t the same scarf he wore while he worked, a more frilly plusher personal one he kept on his bike for colder rides. Garrett hunkered further into his jacket as a shiver raced up his spine and spread across his back making it ache from the nights spent sleeping poorly. Only the pink flush of his cheeks peering out at the rest of the world like a sheepish rodent hiding from the sun. 

“Come on. It's warmer inside.” Corvo started, thumbing over the ruffled frilly tips of the scarf fondly before dropping his hand to touch Garrett’s shoulder and guide him indoors. He relented easily, his hands stuffed back into his pockets as Corvo held the door and moved in behind him. The firmness of Corvo’s chest meeting his back as they shuffled into the doorway, boots wiping on the mats and one hand never really leaving his shoulder. A warm weight that comforted him of the familiar presence.

A waitress greeted them with polite smiles and a soft spoken inquiry for seating. Corvo spoke up, requesting a booth for them and following after the woman as she led them across the first dining room. It took Garrett a moment to realize the place was a newer Buffet. The center of the restaurant was filled with rows and rows of food, all scratch made and steaming in their hot trays and bright heated lights. His fading appetite from the last few days rejuvenated suddenly. Corvo removed his jacket as they approached the table, relishing in the warmer interior and folding it to rest on the seat cushion beside him. Garrett did the same with his scarf and gloves, folding them together neatly and pausing. He contemplated the removal of his jacket but then relented and tucked the accessories inside it. His black long sleeves pulled down to his palms as he folded his arms over his chest and trailed after Corvo when he joined the buffet line. He perked up when the man handed him a warm dinner plate from one end of the first row and they started working their way through. Garrett relished in the heat spreading across his palms, thawing his fingers from the cold outside.

“You’re quiet today.” Corvo started, eyeballing Garrett with a hint of concern in his eyes but it was softened by the friendly exchange. There was nothing accusatory in his tone.

Garrett simply shrugged. “Its cold out. I feel like I should be hibernating right now.” This earned a light laugh from Corvo as he smiled. His attention shifting as he picked through the trays and pots to gather what he wanted for the first round though the smile never faded from his face. It warmed Garrett to see it, causing a stir of light flips in his belly that wasn’t just his hunger grumbling at him at the enticing smells.

“Hopefully some warm food will do you some good.” Corvo offered.

Garrett followed Corvo’s path, scooping green beans and mashed potatoes on his plate. A dinner roll tucked to the side, a couple chicken strips. Somewhere along the line he found mac n cheese and filled a bowl with that, balancing it with his other hand. He was about to turn away to head to their table when a familiar scent caught his attention. He turned to see where Corvo was drifting towards a carving station, the smell reminding him of the missed opportunity at the Museum.

“Is that prime rib?” Garrett inquired, trailing up behind Corvo who waited patiently for the chef working the station. He looked like a curious cat who’d caught a whiff of tuna, his head bobbing around the larger man to inspect the large wooden slab that housed the even larger hunk of cooked meat.

“It is.” Corvo answered, watching the man with two very large sharp knives expertly maneuver them through each piece as he parted meat in even cuts. Corvo offered his plate as the man laid a piece across the open space. The chef turned to look at Garrett in offer of a slice, it balanced precariously on his blades. He examined his plate for space and said fuck it, holding it up and letting a huge slice lay right across it.

The grin that spread across his face was priceless, amusing Corvo as he watched the smaller man tread back over to their table to deliver his hoard like the proud feline he was. Garrett made quick work of getting a Sunkist from the fountain machine and returned to cut into his meal just as Corvo returned with the rest of his first round.

“I take it you like prime rib then?” Corvo chuckled as Garrett worked the tender cut into smaller bite sized pieces, scooping some potatoes with each bite and stabbing green beans mercilessly with his fork. 

Garrett gave a half hearted motion with his shoulders. He swallowed his current mouthful before answering. “I’ve been hungry for it for a while.”

Corvo nodded and let Garrett get deeper into his meal before poking at conversation again. Their encounters were normally more lively than this and he noticed something off about the smaller man this past week. From the lack of activity in his texts and their curt biteless responses that was absent of their normal sarcastic or teasing tune. He could only assume maybe something was wrong in his daily life, possibly stress if the hint of dark circles under his glasses were anything to go by. Contemplating rather or not it would be considered prudent to ask, he gave in to his urge and continued with the thought. His tone was innocent but the inquiry made Garrett recoil suddenly.

“How’s work been?”

Garrett was halfway through a spoonful of mac n cheese when he nearly choked on the cheese sauce in the process. A momentary look of panic flashed across his face as he coughed into his hands, trying to keep from further inhaling his food. Corvo leaned over the table worriedly, handing a napkin from the table dispenser to him, letting Garrett cough through it.

“You alright?” An apologetic look formed in his eyes as the larger man slowly sat back into the cushions. He was primed and ready to interject should Garrett need further help but relaxed as he gained a handle on it.

It took Garrett a moment to realize Corvo wasn’t asking about his professional night work, though his momentary panic had been coiling into sudden fear after the week he had. Paranoia sprouting at the edges of his mind as his coughing settled as did Corvo. He took a drink of his pop to clear his throat a little more and settled back into the booth cushions. He cleared his throat more forcefully with a half cough, balling the napkin up in his fist before letting it drop to the table side.

“Work’s been busy.” He answered, reflecting back on the recent designs he’d been working on that last couple days. He was waiting for approval on the final product so he could get paid. The money didn’t matter much to him in all honesty. He had more than enough to live pretty comfortably for a long time but he still had to keep up some sort of front to match his lifestyle.

“Programming right?” Garrett nodded, picking up his fork and poking at his food, contemplating if he could risk eating without choking again with the way this conversation was going.

“Web design mostly these days.” He corrected after a moment. “There’s more people looking for cheap help to build web pages than there are looking for professional IT’s.” He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Especially since I don’t have the background for big developer companies to hire me.”

“Why is that?”

“I never went to college.” Garrett sighed, watching the frown fold on Corvo’s brow. “I couldn’t afford it.” That was a lie. Garrett didn’t have the determination to sit in a classroom day in and day out, staring at screens and books learning the same shit he could teach himself to do from youtube. He had enough of classroom work when he graduated high school and even that was a bitch to do. He was pretty sure he spent more time sitting in the Principal’s office for causing trouble than actually in his classes.

“I guess you didn’t miss much.” Corvo admitted. “I went through college and the police academy. All I got from that was student loan debt and a fancy useless title on my resume.”

Garrett let out a chuckle. He could imagine the look on Basso’s face if Garrett exclaimed he wanted to try college. It was ridiculously expensive, even for him and that was years ago when he was a junior in school looking through scholarships that would be no good for his situation. His teachers scolding him for not giving it much thought. He had pointed it out back then, just as Corvo did now. There was no purpose. It was just as easy to teach someone how to do the exact same job, while on the job than it was to send them through 2-4 years of college to do it. And it would cost less time and less money. A title on paper didn’t define someone’s work ethic or devotion to the job. Garrett was proof of that with his professional life. He didn’t need a fancy degree to be a master at larceny. 

“How has work been treating you?” Garrett offered as he settled into cleaning up his plate and began planning his next trip back up to the buffet. He hadn’t taken a pass by the dessert table yet and there looked to be a nacho and taco bar.

Corvo’s face cracked from the amused look to something about to break into laughter. “Oh, oooh.” he stifled a laugh. “I didn’t tell you, did I?”

Okay, Garrett’s attention was captured. His plate and endeavors for the buffet table halted as he leaned in towards Corvo. “What? What did I miss?”

Corvo chuckled, looking around to ensure no waitresses were near their little corner and nobody else was seated around them yet. It was still pretty early for lunch rush. Just a couple other patrons were present, most of them young mothers with small children too young for school yet, and elderly couples enjoying the sunshine. Satisfied, his tone dropped as he pushed his empty plate aside. His arms folded against the surface as he leaned closer to Garrett. Garrett followed suit, his hands posted in front of him as he leaned forward, his fingers twirling the straw through his cup, shifting ice around thoughtfully.

“So.” Corvo started with a breathy chuckle in anticipation. His grin was wide as he considered how to go about this explanation. “My superior officer called a meeting the other day. He was in a bad mood already and shift just barely started. We gather into the meeting room and he’s fuming, right. His face is all red, he’s pissed.”

“What happened?” Garrett asked but Corvo dismissed it with a wave. 

“He had a rough night apparently. Was taking it out on third shift.” He sighs. “But he’s trying to get the meeting going, he’s fighting with his computer and has it linked to the speakers and all. Then suddenly there’s just this loud explosion of moaning that filled the room.” It took Garrett a moment to realize what Corvo was talking about. He had forgotten about his little present for Harlan. Of course he assumed the man would discover it at his home, not in the middle of a meeting room in his precinct. This was too good to be true. Even more so as Corvo continued to describe that there was a projector screen up.

“Really? Furry porn?” Garrett could hardly stifle the laugh. Corvo was nearly in tears as he continued retelling it. It was even worse than Garrett had expected. To hear that the entire staff had gathered outside the meeting room and they had not only recordings but _ video _of the blunder was too good to be true. Corvo dug his phone out of his pocket and pulled up his email. Apparently one of the receptionists that Harlan had been especially cruel to recently, had sent the video out in a mass email to the whole department. Of course there was a risk of losing her job over it, but nobody would care to report her. Nobody liked the man to begin with. Which was a wonder that he made it to such a high position in the ranks in the first place.

Garrett listened to it on low volume, the speaker pressed up to his ear as he watched the screen, hearing Harlan’s irate yelling and the sound of laughter filling the room as all the officer’s lost their shit definitely made his whole week.The warmth of satisfaction curling in his stomach matched the heat that spread on his face as he handed the phone back to Corvo. The man had a near permanent grin plastered to his face as he tucked it away into his pocket. The silence more than spoke for itself as they looked sheepishly at each other in short bursts of giggles. 

Finally Garrett broke the silence, looking down at his empty plate and deciding he was going to reward himself with some early dessert and another bowl of mac n cheese and nachos. “I think I’m going to get more food.”

Corvo agreed, rising up from his seat to join him. They were working through the line when Corvo leaned over his shoulder curiously. Garrett looked up, realizing just how close the man was, warm fingers encircling his wrist as the officer shifted his right hand. “What’s that?” He tilted his head, the brush of long brown hair tickling against Garrett’s neck as his gaze shifted towards the question. A thumb rubbing over the Rat King tattoo halfway hidden in the webbing of his thumb and forefinger. The little divot of skin normally folded over the mark to hide it from view or his gloves kept it concealed from view.

“It’s just a silly little tattoo I got when I turned eighteen. It was a birthday present.” He explained, holding his hand up so Corvo could better see it. The dark ink took the attention away from the white half crescent scarring that was branded into the far side of his hand. 

“What’s it mean?” Corvo asked softly as they moved along to the dessert table. Garrett balanced a bowl in one hand, warm against his palm while he picked up another bowl and plate for his sweets, balancing it all together. 

“It’s just a reference to an old cartoon I grew up watching.” He admitted. “The characters were animals.”

“And you liked the mouse king?”

“Well, actually he was a rat.” Garrett corrected, watching the amused smile that spread on Corvo’s face, ignoring the incorrect title.

“Got any other tattoos?” He hummed warm brown eyes raking over Garrett’s figure thoughtfully. The question elicited a pink flush over Garrett’s face, his mind wandering off with the implications of that question. Maybe it was the purred edge that came with it. Maybe it was that look in Corvo’s eyes that made him look hungry and it wasn’t for the caramel drizzled brownies. Suddenly Garrett wished he could hide himself behind his scarf and ignore the heated curious gaze that lingered on him like a snack.


	16. Phantom Pains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basso and Garrett have a heart to heart ad head to Moira Asylum

After the abrupt date and very filling lunch, Garrett found himself more perked up now and eager to get back into his routine. His mental health had visibly improved, a dopey grin fixed to his face as he padded comfortably around his apartment. He had even forgotten about the phantoms that had lurked the edges of his life these last few days. Fears replaced by the sensation of Corvo’s warm hands enveloping his in a gentle hold. Of those softened eyes drinking him in like the vision of his small form was something worth savoring. It made him feel good.

Good enough even, to conquer the flashdrive of information he had been sitting on since the night he entered Harlan’s home. Coincidentally, he had just sat down with a cup of coffee and settled onto the couch to conquer the endeavor when Basso called. Garrett raised a brow and glanced at the phone, obliging the request to answer with the realization that he could use some of Basso’s expertise on certain information.

“What’s up Basso?” He asked, setting his phone to speaker when he answered and resting it on the cushion of the couch. 

“Finally ya answer.” Basso scolded lightly. “I’ve been messagin ya all day.”

“Yeaaahhh.” Garrett trailed. “I was having lunch with Corvo. Gave that new buffet down the street a try.”

“Oh that place is good. They have some of the best clam chowder.” The noise of approval was a lighter tone now as Basso sounded like he was all but drooling over the phone just thinking about it now. Jenivere squawked in greeting, earning an answer in return from Garrett.

“Hello Jenivere. You keeping Basso in line?” Another squawk followed by long trills was all Garrett got. He laughed. “Sounds like hard work.” 

“Yeah yeah, chuckle heads.” Basso huffed. “What have you been up to?”

“About to crack into some information I snatched up.” 

“Anything good?”

Garrett shrugged, forgetting that Basso couldn’t see the gesture and hummed instead. “Not sure yet. I got it off of Harlan’s home computer.”

“You _ what!? _” Garrett winced at the sharp abrupt tone in Basso’s voice. It twisted something nervous inside of the thief as he shied away from the phone. He tapped his password quickly into his computer and unlocked one of his special programs to let the information load in. “Garrett don’t tell me you didn’t…”

Basso’s voice trailed but Garrett couldn’t help himself as he recovered quickly. “His house is really fucking nasty by the way.”

“Garrett!” The parental tone was not lost on Garrett but he was too old to feel the true edge of it like he had all those years ago. The amusing part of adulthood, he didn’t have many responsibilities and even fewer punishments to concern himself with.

“Don’t yell at me. It was Victoria’s idea.” He admitted quickly deflecting the accusatory tone. Basso hissed through his teeth and grumbled something just out of the mic’s reach. “Anyway, hop on your computer. I’m sharing the files with you. It’ll go faster if we both look.”

“What exactly are we looking for?” Basso asked, the sound of his desk chair groaning under the shifting weight as he settled into it. Garrett heard the chiming sound of Basso’s computer waking up and greeting him as he pecked his password in and booted up the program. It was an ingenious program of Garrett did say so himself. If anyone tried to get into it without the proper password (excluding a slight misspelling error which it recognized) the entire system would corrupt itself and all the files kept on the computer would disappear. So if, say the police seized either of their computers, any attempts to access what was on their harddrives would cause it to collapse and everything would be lost. Which wasn’t much of a problem for either of them. Anything extremely important wouldn’t be on the computers themselves but stowed away on copies where nobody else could find them.

“Anything linking to Moira Asylum or Mayor Northcrest.” Garrett answered.

“The Asylum? What’s the old Asylum got to do with anything?” 

“That’s what we’re gonna find out.” Garrett raised his mug to his lips to take a sip of the hot brew and sighed. Basso gave a dismissive grunt as they started looking through the files.

Most of them involved police training schedules, seminars, newspaper articles, some of which were about Harlan and his accomplishments. Garrett rolled his eyes at the headlines and ignored those, skipping through as he picked up saved emails about work schedules and bitching about the chain of command.

Basso didn’t sound like he was having much luck either as he skimmed through file after file, dismissing them from the proverbial pile as he went. It wasn’t until Garrett burst out into laughter over the phone, a fit of giggles that stole the older man’s attention. “What’d’ya find?”

Garrett was breathless as he blurted. “Hold on.” And pushed the files over to Basso’s computer view, controlling what file was open on the other man’s device. Basso frowned, looking over what appeared to be a saved prescription and medical report about treatment for jock itch. There was also a few other questionable mentions that led Garrett and Basso to wonder if the guy really just had an STD. 

“Oh I did not want to know that.” Basso grumbled, giving the computer a disgusted look but he couldn’t hide the amusement in his voice as Garrett barked out laughter but the laughter faded when a realization dawned on him.

“Fucking gross!” He blurted in amused irritation. “I was in his nasty ass bathroom! I’m gonna need to bleach my gear!”

“Why were you in his bathroom?”

“It was the only window I could reach. He had cameras all over the lower level.” Garrett huffed through his nostrils and whined. “It smelled so bad in there Basso. You wouldn’t believe it. I’ve been in hoarder’s houses that smelled better than that. And the floor was all sticky in the bathroom.”

“Sounds like the Lieutenant is a poor aim.” Basso drawled, earning another disgusted whine from Garrett.

“Stop it. You’re gonna make me want to burn my leathers now.” Garrett scolded, glaring at his computer and the suspicions creeping into his thoughts involving the Lieutenant. He grimaced and grumbled, shaking it from his head and continuing through the files. It earned an amused chuckle from Basso.

“Serves you right.”

It took half an hour of sorting through files, reading old emails and reports, skipping over any more potential medical reports that Garrett really didn’t want to know the details on. The last thing he needed to know was the results of Harlan’s colonoscopy. Seriously, who leaves this shit on their laptop?

He was about to give up and take a break, get another cup of coffee and stretch his legs when Basso’s voice piped up over the phone. “I think I found something.”

The screen view switched from the old emails to the folder of images that Harlan had saved with a date. It was around the same time that Garrett had gone missing and had been found. Garrett stared at the screen as he rifled through each photograph. There was screenshotted surveillance cameras with the rush of a black figure across a screen which both he and Basso recognized by the distorted shape caused by the thief’s cloak, that it was Garrett himself. The small darting figure avoiding the cameras, barely touching on the edges of the video. He could be dismissed as a shadow shifting in the passing light. Another image showed a pried open window in a desolate hall, the cracked frame was old and water stained from leaks and cluttered with dust and cobwebs.

Garrett remembered in some small fractured way, slipping through the window frame and touching his boots on the age yellowed tile floors. The smell of sterile chemicals as he passed by a cart covered in tools awaiting use. An abandoned wheelchair with crude straps on the arms. A glint of a medical instrument in someone’s hands, the silvery hue, the clear liquid in the translucent body. The fear that crippled his chest.

With every photograph, he felt his body overcome with a steadily burning heat. Sweat prickling at the back of his neck as the room seemed to grow stuffy and his chest tight. Then his gaze fell on the picture of a cleaner more modernized room. Broken glass littered the floors, heat twisted and warped the metal frames and charred them on the edges. A fire had happened, scorching the rest of the room and staining it a dark grey and deeper blistered black where flames had rolled. The sound of an explosion ringing painfully in his ears, a faint echo of a memory.

“-ett. Garrett you still there?” Basso’s voice filtered into his thoughts as he dragged himself away from the panic.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah.” He admitted. “Hey Basso, I know you’re not gonna like this.”

“What?” He was carefully appraising the request to come. The silence was near deafening in the wait as Garrett considered himself.

“I need to visit Moira Asylum.”

Basso snorted. “Good luck with that. The bridge is out.”

“Exactly. Can I borrow your boat?”

“You mean, _ can I give ya a ride over there _, right?” Basso corrected, the knowing sound to his voice was hard edged with dislike of this idea.

“Yeah. I think Moira has the answers I need about what happened to me.” He urged, more determined now but his voice was softer. His gaze glossing over the images and feeling the panic start to grow in his chest like a fungus in a damp dark space. He cleared his throat, forced the thoughts out of his head and closed the files, logging off of his laptop altogether.

Basso sighed heavily. “When do ya need it?”

“How’s the weather look tonight?” The click of Basso’s tongue made Garrett wince, weary frustration bubbling just under the surface. Garrett knew Basso had been handling all this like a champ so far and if he could, he would have done this himself but he couldn’t cross the river on his own. He could barely stand riding in the boat on good days in the shallows, let alone rowing it alone down the river in the dark.

* * *

The river was disturbingly calm as Basso pushed them off from the shoreline, the gentle wobble of the vessel had Garrett gripping the center seat with a white knuckled grasp. His knees spread just enough to help keep him steady and his head ducked down, focusing on the curved bottom of the boat, hoping it would stay afloat long enough to make the trip. He didn’t doubt in the vessel’s construction, Basso used this old boat to go fishing most of the summer and luckily hadn’t yet packed it away for the winter months. The oars were chilled under Basso’s gloved hands, the bite of frost nipping through the fabric.

Garrett was relieved that he wore his better insulated leathers. The cold that rolled off the water made him shiver but hadn’t reached too far. The bone deep ache was something different entirely, a winding tension that had him pulled taut. The tightness drawn in his shoulders every time a gentle wave lapped at the boat or made it shake even slightly. The shifting current underneath giving a little more to its pace as Basso navigated the familiar waters. Garrett had donned a life vest even before he approached the shoreline, the dark material made him look like an over sized penguin with his cloak wrapped warmly around him.

He dared a glimpse towards the water and swallowed thickly, cursing the storm that washed the bridge out a few months back. This time of year, the water temperature wouldn’t necessarily kill anyone who slipped into it, though hypothermia was a definite concern for prolonged exposure but the unseen currents below were the bigger threat. Garrett didn’t want to risk a chance with either. It may seem strange, especially for someone who grew up along these banks to not know how to swim, but Garrett’s distaste for water far exceeded his own memories and he declined entering anything of depth that wasn’t a bathtub.

He didn’t often let his fears rule his life, but this was one that was more than warranted in his opinion. 

“So…” Basso began. Garrett’s head snapped up, looking straight towards the man and somewhat relieved for the distraction of conversation. “Why exactly are we going to Moira?”

Garrett gave a shrug at first, rummaging through his thoughts to try and figure out what the best way to answer that was. Victoria’s explanation alone wouldn’t sate Basso’s curiosity and Garrett wasn’t inclined to revealing the troubles he’s experienced as of late. In all honesty, he was scared to admit it. He didn’t know what was going on with him, the visions, the voices, all of it. Even the strange blue glow that had begun popping up without warning. He was beginning to think something was seriously wrong with him, afraid that he was going crazy or had some unseen sickness lurking beneath the surface.

He bowed his head and closed his eyes, the heat curling in the back of his skull in a gentle pulse that emanated behind his right eye. A shiver rolled through him as he shifted forward, feeling a wave rock into the front of the boat. 

“Garrett?” Basso’s voice was soft. The sound made Garrett look up hesitantly, knowing the man would have reached out to touch his shoulder, to gain his attention if he didn’t have to hold onto the oars guiding them along the river.

“I uh…” His voice trailed, his gaze drifting to the shadows that spanned the water. Only a single light posted at the front, dim enough not to attract too much attention once they had left the well lit docks, but bright enough to watch out for obstacles or other debris in the water. “Do you-” He cut himself off, grumbled something incoherent beneath his breath then sighed.

“Take yer time.” Basso offered, a sympathetic smile gracing his features when he recognized the signs. Garrett was starting to box himself in, something complicated was clogging up his thoughts, stealing away his attention and it must have been important. The way he struggled for words, the uncertainty in his features. The fear that briefly gleamed in his eyes as he grasped for something to start with.

He took a deep breath, calmed his racing heart and moving his hands into his lap. His fingers were so cold, even with the gloves on to protect them. The wood was chilled to the touch from sitting out in the open night air. He balled them up, breathing warmth into them as he leaned forward, hunkering down as much as the life jacket would allow him to bend. “When I- er since I…._ the incident _.” He finally found a starting point, speaking the last words firmly with an edge of frustration.

“_ After _ the incident I noticed something….odd.” He started, relief washing over Garrett when he could manage a full sentence. He gestured with his right hand, a quick motion that was abandoned when the boat rocked a little and both hands dropped back to gripping the seat for dear life. “My eye, it still causes me pain sometimes.” He continued. “And sometimes…. _ sometimes _I see things. Things that aren’t there.”

He grimaced at that, worked the words in his mouth as he shook his head and corrected himself. “Visions I think.”

“Memories?” Basso supplied and Garrett nodded, somewhat hesitantly. 

“I think so. They don’t make sense to me. I can’t remember them but they feel so real.” He added.

“That’s to be expected.” Garrett aimed a confused look towards Basso who sighed. “You had a case of amnesia Garrett. A part of recovery is _ remembering _what was missing.”

Garrett thought it over and nodded, somewhat relieved by that now. “I hear people talking, familiar people that I’ve met before. Sometimes I see them, sometimes I don’t see anything at all. I just _ feel. _”

“And some of these things yer rememberin are related to Moira?”

Garrett nodded. “I think so.” He sighed. “I remember being in a place like this. I think I was here before Victoria’s rats found me.”

“Well you were found washed up on the river bank. The current could have swept you down from Moira.” Basso affirmed what Garrett had already started piecing together. “Question is, what were you doing here?”

“I think I had a job I was doing.” Garrett offered. 

“It wasn’t anythin I sent ya on. You turned in your last job to me the mornin ya went missin.” Garrett went quiet, fiddling his hands back into his lap and trying to warm his chilled fingers up again. Basso sighed.

“What else do ya remember?”

“The hospital rooms, hiding from someone. I think Harlan was there.” He admitted, catching the flicker of anger that crossed Basso’s expression but he fixed it with something indifferent, looking past Garrett towards the island. “Mayor Northcrest was there. I couldn’t see him but I could hear him talking, arguing with someone.”

Basso’s disgruntled look only grew, earning an inquiring hum from Garrett. He scowled, working through an answer for the thief. “You were gone for several days Garrett.” He started. “Do you- did _ they _do something to you?”

“I don’t remember.” Garrett admitted softly. His hand raising to touch the scarring over his face, feeling the odd jagged markings of pale flesh and thinking over the strange coloring of his eye and the pain it caused him.

“Has it been gettin worse? The pain that is.” Basso asked, watching as Garrett nodded slowly. “And the nightmares?” Garrett’s head dipped down, avoiding Basso’s gaze. It was no secret to the older man. Garrett had suffered so much and neither of them knew what had really happened to him. The lack of answers was probably worse than anything else, offering no closure to either of them. Basso sighed, a sharp sound in the quiet of the night. The soft stirring of the oars in the water eased Garrett’s nerves only a little. It was monotonous and familiar. 

“Do you think there’s something wrong with me Basso?”

“You mean beside the black fingernail polish and poor taste in jokes?” Basso asked, earning a small smile to crack across Garrett’s lips. “Nah, I don’t think anything’s wrong with ya. There’s a lot wrong with the world, but I can’t see anything about ya that needs to change. Aside from those eating habits.”

Garrett nodded, relaxing at the teasing comment.”What’s wrong with my eating habits?”

“Silverware is a thing, ya know? So are napkins.” Basso reminded.

“Anything is finger food if you’re brave enough.” Garrett reminded sharply, letting out a small laugh as he settled into his seat.

The conversation faded as they neared the island, Basso guiding them in to the shoreline where it wasn’t quite so rocky and he could bank the boat on the solid ground. Garrett hopped out over the bow and helped drag it where it was fixed on the earth, allowing Basso to clamber over and drag it the rest of the way up. He adjusted the light on the front to scan the bank, looking for any signs of company but was met with the eerie silence of the island.

“This place gives me the creeps.” He admitted as Garrett tossed his life jacket inside the boat and adjusted his cloak and scarf until he was comfortable again. His body more than happy to be on still dry land. Fog rolled thickly across the embankment, obscuring any view of the shoreline adjacent where the bridge was indisposed.

“Don’t remind me.” Garrett grumbled, heaving a sigh. “I don’t want to be here anymore than you do.” He tore his gaze away from the looming brickwork structure that greeted them with a less than inviting air. “You’re gonna be alright out here?”

Basso was already fishing into the back end of the boat, pulling out a large thermos and a stack of extra blankets and provisions to fend away the cold. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Don’t take too long. I wanna be out of here before the sun rises.” Garrett nodded.

* * *

It took quite a bit of time for Garrett to find his way around to the front gates of the Asylum, realizing they had docked on the far side of the island. Which required a lot of climbing on his part, navigating the steep slippery rocks that crowded the exterior walls, slick with moss and overgrown in weeds. He hissed every time his cloak got snagged, wrenching it back with a silent grumble as his boots worked across the concrete of what he assumed to be a visitor patio leading to what used to be the old courtyard. The plants had either withered away and died from lack of upkeep or were choked off by the stranglehold of vines and weeds weaving in and out of the flowerbeds and what used to be manicured shrubbery.

He searched the courtyard, inspecting the windows lining the front of the building when he noticed the scratch marks in one set of bricks. It was consistent with the marks made by the claw and as he looked closer to brickwork he could see the marks pried into the wooden frame. They were older, weathered and worn where the paint had been chipped away. He paused, considering taking the same path inside as he had in the past. This was the same window from Harlan’s file. He doubted he would need to worry about the Asylum being inhabited now, the bridge was gone and the shoreline looked empty. There wasn’t a single light inside the building and even the ground failed to yield any fresh tracks aside from the soft scuffles in the dirt where spooked rabbits had stirred into the brush.

Hoisting the claw up and catching the same ledges as before, he gave the window a testing push and it yielded results. It was tight in the frame, grown stiff from disuse and the accumulated grime of dust as he pushed it open enough to slip his small frame through the gap. It would give him a hell of a time trying to get out that way but it was a good enough escape for now. 

His head was on a swivel before he pushed himself the rest of the way through, dropping his weight into a shoulder roll when he hit the floor. His head guarded and his bow adjusted enough to avoid hitting the floor. He collected himself back to his feet quickly, using his momentum to spring up when he heard the sound of a door further inside the building squeak. Garrett supplied it had to be the wind, the stale drafts pushing through the old building. Adjusting his bow again, he scanned the empty hall, noting it looked like someone abandoned it in a hurry. There were carts sitting against the walls, dusty tools left untouched, old packages of bandages were yellowed and faded from moisture. The labels almost unreadable now.

Wheelchairs lined the hall where they’d been shoved out of the way and the occasional gurney had supplies stacked atop it, files shoved into boxes as they were used as makeshift trolleys before someone either forgot them or were forced to vacate too quickly to finish cleaning it out. Garrett was reminded of all the old ghost stories that filled these halls. The eerie whistling of the wind and the cold chill creeping up his spine causing him to pause. Another noise sounded, closer this time. A rustling of movement. It was brief. Garrett shifted on his toes, pressing his body closer to the wall as he edged towards the corner of the next hallway.

He had intended to peer around the edge, past the chipped paint and water stained walls. Had hoped to catch a glimpse of whatever rodent or open window he missed that was causing the stirring sounds. Instead he was greeted by a shadow obscuring his view. Fear jolted through his body when something reached out, almost lightning fast towards him. A lunge as the figure rushed the short distance between them. Garrett felt his heart drop into his stomach, the air leaving his chest in one great big rush. 


	17. Down the Rabbit Hole We Go To Lose Our Minds And Sell Our Souls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrett meets a new ally and finds out he really really hates hospitals. Especially potentially haunted abandoned ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I owe an endless amount of thanks to my beloved Australian gremlin Svart-Jade for her assistance through this chapter and in being my guinea pig for the entirety of the fic itself. Especially in helping me work through Thomas' characterizations. I would be nothing without her and her support. So thank you so much!
> 
> Also, anyone who doesn't know, she writes Dishonored fanfiction and her writing is phenomenal! If you haven't checked out her AO3, I suggest you do and read it over! Her fic The Rogue Whaler is amazing!

His body moved before his mind could even register the attack. His hands deflecting the arm that struck towards him, a glint of silver catching his eye. _ A blade. _He realized seconds too late as he moved the offending arm into a circular motion, pushing it outward as he sidestepped, moving into his assailant's body until they were chest to chest. Garrett's other hand caught up under their other arm and whirled their bodies into a perfectly circular motion, continuously moving and fluid. The body went flying with the continuous momentum, Garrett's center of gravity working with his attacker's, using their off balance movement against them.

He let go just as quickly as they hit the ground with a heavy thud. The nearly dead weight crumpling into the adjacent wall, the narrow space cutting their momentum short. It took Garrett a moment to relieve his racing heart as he sized up his attacker. They scrambled back to create distance, brandishing their knife once more and standing ready. Garrett drew the stun rod from his belt and held it in his grasp, letting it crackle with the charging tips. The static tinge in the air making the hairs on his neck stand on end.

The man before him was tall and lean, a bit bigger build in the shoulders than Garrett and quick on his feet. A dark blue trench coat concealed most of his figure from view, hiding anymore surprise weapons from the thief's line of sight. Garrett wasn't too concerned with that considering the man's first choice of weapon was a knife and thankfully not a gun. Instead his eyes were drawn to the dark gas mask that peered at him. The visor made it near impossible to see his face in the dim lighting of the halls. Even with the scant few traces of moonlight filtering through the thick cloud coverage and the fog that blanketed the island.

Garrett was more startled when the man spoke, his eyes narrowed suspiciously as he started to put away his knife with a dismissive gesture. "Oh, it's just you."

"Wait- _ what? _" Garrett's eyes widened as he stared the man down. His guarded posturing settled into something more familiar, as if they were old acquaintances and not just meeting in an abandoned mental hospital. He slowly turned his stun rod off and returned it to his belt, his hand still lingered just over it as he prodded. "Have we met?"

"Don't tell me you've forgotten." He sounded displeased, tilting his head in a way that made Garrett uncomfortably aware that he was sizing him up. "I helped you out last time you were here." He added, reaching down for the dark leather knife belt on his waist and giving it a tilt forward to expose the Queen's mark of the rat.

“Is that supposed to mean something?” Garrett asked. He knew there were a lot of people in the Queen’s court, far too many for him to memorize in this city alone. He gave the man an incredulous raise of a brow as he stared blankly through the mask. He could tell by the slight hunch of shoulders that he was considering something then he heard a muffled sigh.

“I would have expected the _ Master Thief _to have better memory.” Garrett felt the sting of that, recoiling a bit and stifling the growl on his lips. His memory was perfectly fine. Well, sort of. It wasn’t his fault there was a hole. Memorizing maps and codes of information was one thing, recalling emptiness was another.

“I-” He trailed off, averting his gaze from the man to sweep down the hall beside them. The sound of the wind whistling through an open window or hole catching him off guard. “I don’t remember.” He added. “That’s why I’m here.”

He fixed his gaze back on the man who had now crossed his arms expectantly. The tilt of the head was all he got as far as hints that the man was appraising him again. His head shifting slightly, it took Garrett a moment to realize he was focusing on his damaged eye.

“You didn’t have that last time.” The man finally said, gesturing to the right side of his own face. “You think something happened here to cause that then?” The silence trailed between them as Garrett gave another curt nod.

There was a moment, then another sigh followed as the man offered a hand towards Garrett. “Alright then, Master Thief. I just so happen to be looking for something as well. My name is Thomas.” Garrett gave his hand a suspicious look, examining it for a hidden blade of some sorts but he rescinded the thought and accepted the shake.

“Soo…” Garrett trailed, glancing back down the hall Thomas had come from.

“I came in through a window down that way. I didn’t get a chance to sweep the rooms yet when I heard you.” Garrett winced. The claw was still a clumsy tool and the noise of it scraping on wood and the groan of the frame shouldn’t have surprised him to being heard. He just hadn’t expected anyone to be around that would notice. Other than the rats that scurry to the far corners of the darkness.

“I see.” He glanced towards the corridor Thomas had come from and gestured with a nod, urging them to start moving. Garrett was having a hard time staying still in a place like this. The chill and eerie quiet unsettled him. Thomas fell easily into step at his side while they walked, stopping to test the doors along the way, glimpsing within in search of signs of use. Many of them, like the rest of the building, had been abandoned hastily. Beds tipped over and mattresses rotted with time, windows grimed over and cracked, their rough iron bars the only protection to keep the patients within the confines of the cramped rooms.

He kept one hand lowered to his belt, prepared for trouble or something to jump out at him. He didn’t often put too much stock into ghost stories and he wasn’t exactly superstitious or gullible enough to believe in entities beyond their realm, but he knew to trust his gut and that was as solid enough belief he needed. That trickling feeling that they weren’t alone here. They were halfway through what they’d discovered to be the women’s ward, when Garrett first noticed it. That sensation of eyes on his back, the creeping chill and the subtle hints of _ presence _ like when he could tell another person had entered the same space as him. Another beating heart, another warm body, another breath added to the atmosphere. That instinctive _ knowing. _

He whirled quickly, catching the shadow shape just as it disappeared around the corner at the end of the hall. Silently moving, a drift of fabric. His eyes narrowed, the hairs standing on the ends of his arms as he held his breath, searching for any sign of more movement.

He heard Thomas shift from where he was rifling through a box they’d found, more files forgotten in a hasty departure. He was stone still, the blank look of his mask directed the same way Garrett’s own mismatched gaze had been. 

“Please tell me you saw that as well.” He spoke up after a moment.

Garrett nodded, a slow jerky movement. “Yeah. They were watching us.”

“You don’t believe in ghost stories, do you?” Thomas pressed after a moment. He was rewarded with a snort from Garrett.

“The only ghost people have to worry about is me.” He added, more for his own benefit than Thomas’. He felt a bit of relief at the sound of amusement that fumbled from the man’s throat. His shoulders eased a little as he turned his attention back to digging through the files. One eye flitting up towards that doorway, hoping to catch whoever it was peeking at them but he was met with no more shadows.

“What exactly are we looking for?” He asked, turning his attention to the man briefly while he flipped through the files and read over some rushed scribbles, cursing the fact that all doctors have the same sloppy unintelligible handwriting.

“There was an influx of disappearances in the City, mostly homeless and a handful of the Queen’s court.” Thomas paused, a thoughtful tilt of his head. Garrett glanced over his shoulder trying to read the file in his hands before Thomas continued rifling through it. “The last time I was here, I found some of the missing.” He continued explaining.

“Back then I was just on strict orders for scouting, I couldn’t help the people that had occupied these rooms.” He shifted, a tension going through his shoulders. The thief adjusted the cardboard box he’d finished rummaging through, not finding anything of use to him and instead leaned his hip against the nurse’s station desk. He cursed the fact there wasn’t anything really of worth left lying in the drawers or cabinets aside from a few abandoned packs of bandages and one half empty first aid kit with medical tape left inside.

“Orders from who?” He tried after a moment, his gaze sweeping down the halls, inspecting the world outside the protective bars of the nurses station that kept the previous staff safe from the roaming patients and their potentially violent outbursts. He’d seen the writing on some of the walls, the holes from fists punching through the plaster, the blood tracks turned a rusty brown and printing the frames as one tried to beat their way through the windows. He couldn't imagine the life that once roamed this place, chaotically numb. Pained and lost. People who were no longer people made so by affliction and the drugs meant to _ 'help' _. It made his stomach knot up into something tight and uncomfortable.

Thomas paused, glancing at him with that same blank look and shook his head. “Someone who wants to help.” He answered after a long moment.

Garrett scoffed. “Not much of that in this city.” He ignored the fact that didn’t answer his question even the slightest, but if the man was part of the Queen’s Court, he figured he could trust him well enough. Unbeknownst to the common folk, thieves did live by and work by a code of honor. Other criminals did as well, flying under the Queen’s mark, you had to adhere to the rules of her court or be outcast. When reliance on her _ entrepreneurs _like Basso for instance, was life or death for their kind, few dared challenge her authority or risked breaking the rules.

The amused noise from Thomas was not missed but it was cut short as he pulled a file from the box and stiffened. He started scrolling through the pages, reading over the far neater scrawling of information within. Garrett leaned over his shoulder briefly to catch a name. 

_ Galia Fleet. _

Garrett frowned, noting the name had to be familiar to Thomas. The way he hovered over one of the pages, thumb sliding along the edge, careful not to fold or crumple the paper beneath his gloved hand. A heavy breath exhaled as he read over the underlying notes.

  


_ Patient #14 _

_ Suffered alcoholism _

_ Otherwise healthy subject. She was placed in a two week quarantine to detox and another week on observation for recovery before the first test trials began. _

One of the pages was smudged, making it hard to see the words or even make sense of the context with all the medical jargon but it didn’t seem to hinder Thomas any.

_ Three days in and subject is already showing signs of treatment. Discoloration of the skin is subtle, a thinning appetite even with stimulants added to her routine medication. Sleeplessness has started to show. The nurses have noticed her pacing in her room all hours of the night and a manic scratching at the injection sight has concerns for infection. She’s been put on restraints for the time being to prevent further incidents of self-mutilation. _

Thomas flipped through the next pages but there were no more reports to be seen. Just medical charts showing the drugs being used, the doses and how many times a day they were given. There was a sign in sheet to document what nurse did what at the specified time but that was all. He sat the file aside with an obvious huff.

“Were they experimenting on people here?” Garrett finally asked, offering a brief distraction for Thomas. The man startled slightly as if he’d forgotten he was still there. His head dipped down towards the box, inspecting it momentarily, a hand still resting on the lip of it before he pushed it forward.

“There were rumors that the Asylum was being used again.” He started. “Vehicles had been seen crossing the bridge in the night. Lights illuminating the shoreline as if guarded. The mass of disappearances at the time couldn’t have been a coincidence.” He shifted the box before removing his hand from it altogether and turning more fully to face Garrett. “Last time I was here, I found signs that people had come through here but no answers on where they’d ended up. The files had been marked with _ Termination _.” Thomas trailed, letting that single word sink in for Garrett.

“No bodies have appeared but there are a lot of ways to get rid of a corpse you don’t want found.” Thomas continued.

Garrett felt his mouth go dry as he looked over the boxes. All these files were unfinished. There was no sign of termination which made him wonder if the files that had been taken were already destroyed to hide the evidence of the deeds. Which made him wonder where exactly all these people had gone.

“Maybe we’ll find more answers further in. This place is big and we haven’t checked it all yet.” He offered quietly. Thomas nodded, giving the files another brisk look over, as if contemplating bringing them along. He seemed to dismiss the idea quickly and started to head out of the nurse’s station. Garrett fell into step behind him but the man halted suddenly, causing him to bump into his back with a grunt. 

He scowled at the man’s wide shoulders, about to snap something unpleasant at him when he heard the sound of footsteps and the soft humming of a voice fading down the hall. His spine prickled with unease when a door slammed loudly, causing them both to jump.

Garrett growled as the silence stretched on. “Seriously fuck this place.” The approving noise from Thomas was only a mild reassurance as they pushed in deeper. 

* * *

This place was incredibly fucking confusing, Garrett quickly realized. Even with all the faded dusty signs directing them, they had gotten turned around twice and stumbled through the women’s ward a second time before finally finding their way to a stairwell and descending to the lower level. They took a brief stroll into the men’s ward but that lasted all of but five seconds when something loud banged in one of the halls and a high whirring screech ushered them right back out the way they came and collectively agreed “Fuck that.”

They both assumed the building was falling apart and after the brief glimpse they got of the ward itself, it hadn’t even been used when the odd experiments were going on and that was enough reason to avoid it altogether. The lower level was just as dusty and unpleasant as the rest, they wandered through what Garrett assumed to be the cafeteria and was met with another strange shadow briskly disappearing behind the curtains on the stage. Thomas grumbled something incoherent under his breath while he thumbed the hilt of one of the apparent many knives on his person. There was broken glass everywhere, bottles smashed onto the ground and a strange milky substance had pooled giving the impression it was recent and that honestly disturbed Garrett more than anything else in this place.

It took nearly half an hour for them to finally find a working elevator and slipped inside. The old metal gears grinding with an ear piercing screech, the whole platform shuddered, dropping Garrett’s heart into his stomach as he gripped the frame anxiously. Thomas didn’t look anymore pleased when it dropped quickly for half a floor before jerking suddenly, causing a strained noise to form in Garrett’s throat. They looked at each other with what the thief could only assume was equal feelings of grief and when it finally came to a full stop, they were both eager to leave the death trap. Garrett ignored the shaking in his hands as he adjusted his cloak where it caught on his shoulder and kept walking. He was thankful for his mask, narrowing his eyes through the clouds of dust and debris that had been stirred up by the elevator’s descent. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask.” Garrett started, if only to break up the eerie silence that seemed to fill every inch of this place. He couldn’t recall the last time he heard something move, like a rat or other rodent. He’s been in a lot of dark abandoned places and found his fair share of animals hiding in the walls or stuffing themselves into makeshift nests in the desks or something. This place was too empty, too quiet. Like it was watching them, waiting for their next move. Anticipating their reaction.

“Why the mask?”

Thomas didn’t seem bothered by the question, more considerate as he contemplated how to answer. The slight tilt and sway of his head, the stretch in his shoulders like he was walking through possibilities. “It’s versatile.” He started. “Muffles my voice, hides my face and filters out the toxins in the air.” Garrett watched the half heart gesture with the man’s hand as he pointed at their current predicament. 

Garrett could sympathize with that. His own mask was made of fabric and did a decent enough job of helping him get through potential breathing hazards in his environment but it wasn’t made for that purpose. It helped him hide his face and added to the illusion that he was simply shadows and not a living man. The dark kohl around his eyes assisted with that as well.

“Why the bow?” It was Thomas’ turn to question, giving a nod towards Garrett’s back. The thief paused, then reached behind himself to remove it from the holster on his quiver. A click of his finger on the grip and it unfolded from its compact position into its full size. It was a beautiful display of engineering that he was incredibly proud of if he did say so himself.

“It's quiet but powerful.” He explained. “People tend to not see it as much of a threat like they would a knife or a gun.” He added, inspecting his own weapon as if for the first time ever. He let Thomas examine it, even let him take it into his hands to look it over while they walked. 

“What kind of ammunition do you use?” He added, passing the weapon back over to Garrett’s hands. He hit the button on the grip again and it folded back up to be returned to his quiver.

“EMP’s, Rope, Blunts and on the rare occasion I carry normal broadheads.” He explained. “My job isn’t to hurt people. My arrows are tools, not weapons.” He pressed, eyeing Thomas over carefully. The man didn’t seem to be offended by the comment, just gave a little nudge of his shoulder. 

“We walk the same path but on different sides of the fence.” Thomas finally said.

“Violence necessitates more violence.” Garrett countered.

Thomas didn’t miss a beat as he added. “How is that going for you then? I hear Lieutenant Harlan doesn’t seem to care much for your pacifistic practices.”

Garrett hid his scowl behind his mask, feeling a rush of discomfort at the reminder. Once upon a time, he may have been riled up by that. The mockery of his style, though he didn’t think it was necessarily meant to be a jab at him personally. He had been on the other end of someone else’s aggression for so long, he couldn’t bring himself to indulge in that. To inflict the same to someone else. The guards who had unfortunately stumbled upon him had come to blows with him, yes. But they got out of it with no more than a possible accidental black eye and a sore shoulder from being thrown much the same he had done to Thomas. On the even rarer occasion, he’d used his stun rod to incapacitate them. But he would never cause severe harm or take a life. He’d never be able to live with himself if he did.

The silence settled again, short lived as they entered a new set of corridors that led to what Garrett assumed to be the old treatment center. It was off putting, seeing the signs above each door like a beacon of misery for the inhabitants unfortunate enough to be brought down here. "I really hate this place." Garrett muttered under his breath, hearing an affirmative sound mirrored by Thomas when they found yet another caged in area. This one was locked but appeared to be a guard station and a control room for the doors.

Without missing a step, Garrett dropped down to kneel before the door, withdrawing the picks from his belt and started working the lock free. Thomas stood at his back, a quick glance over the shoulder and Garrett confirmed his suspicion. The man was on guard, watching the corridors adjacent to them. Unnerved by the grinding of metal and the squeaking sounds of gears trying to roll. He wondered briefly what may be the cause of it but decided it better not to ask what he may not want to truly know the answer to. His gut confirmed this feeling.

His relief came when the lock clicked and the door opened easily, exposing the interior of the guard station. There was a panel of controls but the lights on them were dark. There were papers and reports laid out, covered in dust and barely legible in places from exposure to moisture in the lower levels. Thomas stepped up towards the door, casting one last glance before entering and picking up what appeared to be a map of the interior of the Asylum and its exits. Many of which, he noticed on the way down, were blocked with debris or boarded up. He noted, that down the hall they were in, there was a generator room.

“We may need to get the power running again.” He offered. 

Garrett bobbed his head in a nod of understanding, still rifling through the desk drawers, picking another lock and finding a ring of keys and a handgun locked within. His stomach clenched tightly at the sight, his hand carefully avoiding the firearm as he plucked the keys out. “Think these lead to somewhere?”

“Maybe the generator room?” Thomas offered, glancing down the hallways. Garrett handed them over. “I’ll go see if I can find the door-”

They were cut off by a very sudden, very loud bang. Garrett’s head snapped up, facing the direction they were headed to only seconds earlier. His hand dropped to his bow, pulling it from his quiver and snapping it open. “That wasn’t machinery.” It was followed by another louder bang accompanied by a high pitched wail, a terrible shriek that rivaled anything possibly human but wasn’t quite animalistic either.

The noise caused him to stumble, the pain piercing through his right eye, a fiery throb that pulsed. He felt the world tip around him, that same blue haze enveloping his vision as he stared through the bars. The view of the hallway replaced with the cobweb covered brickwork of a tiny cramped room. The bed overturned and shoved into a corner. The sound of wheels squeaking underneath him as he was moved, drawn out of that place, carried unwillingly along the long empty halls. His head lolled to the side, vision blurred as white figures passed by. The pain in his head was too much, like his skull was splitting open with every noise and jostle. The distant voices discussing something, _ arguing _ but it was far away and he couldn’t make out the syllables through the haze. The screams of a woman filled the corridor, a rush of bodies racing past him. He struggled against the restraints as the chair came to a stop and he was left alone, within another quiet cramped room.

The door moved loudly, a deafening click as metal hinges screeched their opposition. Darkness spreading from the corners, leeching away the light in a sped up rotation of time. His movements sluggish as he fought, weakness clinging to his limbs as the straps started to loosen and eventually he was free.

  


Garrett’s vision whited out in a roar of sound and colors, his hand pressed firmly over his face, bow still gripped in the other as he breathed in, heavy, gasping. Thomas was standing beside him, one hand pressed to his shoulder, seemingly holding him upright. His knees trembled, nearing to buckle beneath the pressure compounding his skull. He blinked away the hazy blue until the color returned to its gloom of greyscale and dim orange glow of lights. He wasn’t aware that the power had returned, or even that Thomas had left his side.

“What happened?” Garrett asked, trying to pull himself back up and salvage his composure even a little. He ignored the shaking in his hands as he gripped his bow.

“That’s what I’d like to know.” Thomas gave him what Garrett assumed to be a pointed look. He was met with a slow confused shake of the head. 

“I don’t know. I-” His voice trailed off, looking around in confusion. “I remembered being here. I think.”

“What did you remember?” It was a gentle prod, a coaxing need for information. To know what blanks would be necessary to fill in.

“I think I was caught.” He started, looking down at his hands. He remembered his gear. He was still in his leathers in the memory. So it hadn’t been very long since he’d been apprehended. “I was tied down to one of the wheelchairs and put in a room.”

‘That was after we crossed paths.” Thomas started, his shoulders working tension out of them with a subtle roll. “There was an explosion not long after we parted. There were too many guards for me to stay so I assume they managed to catch you.”

“Well I escaped.” He added, somewhat annoyed at that insinuation.

“Not unscathed I see.” Thomas blanked back, giving a nod towards Garrett’s right eye. The odd coloring nearly seemed to glow in the lights now, catching the reflection in a way that was almost haunting.

He was met with a huff from Garrett as he straightened up and adjusted his bow in hand. “So what now?”

“We open the doors.”

“And what about that.” Garrett gestured down the hall where the screaming had been.

“It quieted down when the power came back.” Thomas answered simply, a basis of fact in his tone. “The only way to find out what we need may be in one of these rooms and we’ll have to deal with _ that _sooner or later.” Garrett’s glare was not unnoticed as the man added. “Whatever it is, it won’t survive down here for long. Dealing with it now is a mercy for the future.”


	18. Burn It To The Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrett and Thomas find answers and dabble in a bit of arson along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some descriptive scenes of gore in this chapter! Reader discretion is advised!
> 
> Thanks again to Svart-Jade for being my reading guinea pig and my go to handbook on Thomas the Whaler!

Garrett didn’t like Thomas’ plan one bit.

There were too many unknown variables, and though he did like to go into situations with a bit more heads up than just _ open the doors and find out _, he really hoped this didn’t get him killed. Or trapped in this shit hole of a place. After doing an initial walkthrough of the lower portions of the corridor, they discovered some useful vantage points. Thomas, to Garrett’s surprise, had clambered up onto some low hanging pipes that led out of the generator room and into the bowels of the building. From his perch, he had a good view of the doors in question as well as Garrett himself. The thief would admit, he was impressed but he still didn’t like the insinuation of what was going to follow.

Thomas instructed him to close the guard gate behind him, giving him the keys to the control center and ensuring it was secured properly. The man even gave an experimental pull on the bars to make sure the lock hadn’t been damaged while Garrett gained access. From there, Garrett waited with his bow at the ready and a blunt arrow knocked hoping to stun or distract whatever it was that came through that door. At Thomas’ signal, Garrett would hit the button for each door and they would clear the rooms one at a time.

If worse comes to worse, Garrett had a flash bomb prepared if Thomas was overwhelmed. That didn’t stop the ache in his chest or the bitter bile rising at the thought that this felt too much like an ambush. Especially when they weren’t aware of who exactly could be in those rooms.

On Thomas’ signal, Garrett hit the button opening the first of the rooms. The swell of tension was palpable but the result, when the door screeched open, was anticlimactic. They waited with bated breath, watching the entryway for something to come rushing out, though Garrett wasn’t entirely sure what he expected in all this. Thomas was patient, he waited quietly for several minutes but the silence remained. Garrett shifted his grip on his bow, his foot bobbing the ground impatiently when Thomas whistled down the hall. He was met with more silence and then...barely audible, was the sound of shuffled movement. What appeared through the doors was a sight Garrett would never forget. 

What he assumed to be a woman by the long patient gown that draped over her body in filthy torn rags lurched through the doors. She was crumpled in on herself, spine hunched and head stooped as if she were elderly and frail, her skin drawn tight over her face and hands, the signs of a body barely surviving. Starvation caving in her chest cavity into a gaunt frame. Her hair was sparse in its long gnarled strands, blood dried and cracked where nails had raked across the tender meat of her skull and tore through them. Her face shared the appearance of sores dug into her flesh. But worst of all was her eyes. They shifted back and forth with a wariness that made him think of a cornered animal. Her body moved with a painful twist and spasm and he noted her right leg dragged behind her movements. Her arms were darkened by crusted blood and upon closer look, he could see bite marks, as if something had taken hunks right out of her flesh. The crusted blood around her lips made him sick. The bitter taste of bile rose in his throat, sour and violent in the revulsion that followed.

He shifted with his bow, uncertainty taking hold of him. Pain lancing through his skull as he loosened his hold. He flinched at the soft _ thwack _that sliced through the air. The woman jolted, her body crumpled to the ground in the blink of an eye. Blood pooled beneath her in dark ribbons that traced the little gaps and cracks in the floor. Garrett blinked in confusion, turning his gaze towards Thomas’ raised arm and Garrett finally understood. On his wrist was a miniature crossbow like device. The bolt stood firmly in the softened indentation of her skull. The man was unbothered by the mess or even the loss. His sightless gaze turned towards Garrett with a sharp reminder. 

“There is a mercy in ending it now. She could not have been helped.” It didn’t stop the sickening spasms that rolled through Garrett or the anger that twisted his insides up into painful knots. He struggled to keep his head on the task as Thomas reminded him of the next door. If this was how the rest of the night was going to go, he very much would prefer they didn’t continue here. The information that could possibly be in those rooms couldn’t have been worth _ this. _

“Master Thief.” Thomas reaffirmed, pulling Garrett from his thoughts and forcing his hand to the next set of buttons. He held his bow firmly in hand but lowered his arrows, resigned to watch the next outcome, ignoring the trembling in his shoulders and the uncertainty that coiled through him in shallow ripples. Thomas didn’t seem bothered by Garrett’s lack of cooperation. The next room was more lively when the door screeched open. It hadn’t stopped moving when the two bodies ducked through it. Men this time, one of broader build than their companion. Just like the last, they were near starved and physically mutilated. The smaller man was missing a hand that appeared to have been severed at the wrist and two fingers remained on the hand that he still had. The stench of death followed them from the second room and Garrett tried his best to ignore the realization that they had probably started to cannibalise each other.

They came rushing out with wails and screams that made his blood run cold. Garrett stumbled back in the guard’s station when the larger man threw himself at the bars with gnashing teeth and wild eyes. Garrett could see the smears of rust red on his face and the blood that trickled from his scalp where nails had raked apart flesh. It dripped in dry streams down his forehead. His arms reaching out for Garrett but the thief twisted away. His cloak was snagged at the last second as he was dragged hard against the bars. The fabric that kept him safe from prying eyes now threatened to strangle him as arms reached through. Panic jolted through his body but reflex guided his hand to his belt, grappling the handle of his stun rod as it charged up. The taste of static in the air was a welcome relief as he drove the device back blindly, digging into flesh and unleashing a current of electricity through the larger form.

The man screamed, an agonized wail that forced him to release Garrett. He turned around quickly, drawing his cloak back with him in his free hand as he jabbed the stun rod through the bars a second time, forcing the man back with the painful shocks. Garrett saw Thomas drop down on the smaller patient who hissed and snarled at him like a feral cat. Thomas moved with all the expertise and finesse of a jaguar claiming an unwary gazelle, taking him down to the floor with a direct hit to the throat. The crunch of bone was a sickening companion to the gurgled screams of his counterpart. He recovered quickly, raising his crossbow and driving a bolt into the larger man’s body. He stumbled but did not fall, instead gaining his feet under him as if they were lead weights, and charged like an enraged bull. 

Thomas darted to the side, rolling across the concrete in a quick rush of momentum that landed him in a crouch. He pivoted on his toes and turned, launching a second arrow into the man’s back. Still, it did little more but earn another scream. Garrett raised his bow and released the blunt he’d been holding onto, striking the back of the man’s head and causing him to stumble. He turned with a snarl on his lips, lunging for the bars a second time now. Thomas halted his progression, wrapping himself around the man’s body with a quick lunge, driving his knife into his throat and pulling with one fluid powerful movement that sprayed blood across the adjacent wall. Garrett shielded himself with a twist of his body, his cloak taking the brunt of the crimson miasma, the stench of rot rising from the body that crumpled outside of the station. Wounds festered with maddening infection, upon closer inspection, Garrett noticed the white squirming bodies of maggots that had burrowed into his flesh as if he were a living carcass already.

Thomas reset himself in his previous spot after checking on Garrett with a brief nod and a muffled inquiry. Garrett was quiet but unharmed. His eyes straying to the corpses that now surrounded the guard station. With Thomas’ direction, they cleared the rest of the rooms with little incident. There were no more patients luckily enough. Garrett was eager to leave the guard station, unlocking the door with trembling fingers that fought the keys for purchase and needed some assistance from Thomas to move the larger corpse out of the way to free him. He kept his mask pulled firmly over his face, eyes narrowed as they searched the rooms one by one. To Garrett’s immense displeasure, he found the remains of several other patients in the rooms. Or what was left of them after the others had consumed their fill. It appeared they had broken through the vents that had separated two of the rooms and had killed their neighbors in a fit of rage or hunger, Garrett couldn’t tell.

He was nausea at the sight and lingered in one of the rooms furthest away from the gore. One that had been thankfully empty of occupants aside from the few unfortunate mice that had died within. He rifled through the files he found, inspecting documents left behind by the doctors that carried out the gruesome experiments. There were notes on the patients and their behavior, quickly scribbled in the margins. Some of it was incoherent dribble and medical jargon but what Garrett could make out made him uneasy.

_ Rabies _

_ Or some variation of said disease. The others do not believe it to be so but the subjects all share similar symptoms to the afflicted rodents that have been monitored carrying it. Sensitivity to light, overstimulation to touch or sounds drives them into a state of severe agitation and aggression. Seizures have been exhibited in numerous subjects and most peculiar of all is an irrational and innate fear of water. Subjects did not show such an aversion upon first entering the project but after several treatments, they refused to go near a source of water. This leads to extreme dehydration and several subjects have already been lost to the affliction. They have also shown signs of self-mutilation by scratching, biting and chewing on their own limbs. Just yesterday, a young woman had severed her own finger from her hand and another patient had attempted to consume the bloodied limb. _

Well then, Garrett felt the queasy enough as is. The burn of bile had him sitting the file down just as Thomas came around the corner. He took a step back, dragging in a rough breath, trying to fill his lungs and clear the prickling burning sensation working up inside him. He handed the file to Thomas as the man spoke up. 

“I think I found something.” He offered, accepting the document and giving it a quick read over. If he was frowning, Garrett couldn’t tell aside from the tense hunch of his shoulders and the firmness that had taken form in his jaw, the muscle jumping along his neck in response. “That makes sense now.” The thief heard him mumble through the mask, setting the file back on the shelf Garrett found it and gesturing for the thief to follow him.

It was the room closest to the generator room that had Thomas’ attention. Garrett stepped carefully around the bodies, ensuring not to track through the blood with his boots. Thomas shared the same care in his steps but put less effort into the need. He sidestepped the door and motioned for Garrett to head through it first. The thief paused, peering around the corner to gauge if he really wanted to look. He was met with a familiar sight.

It was just like the photographs Harlan had taken on his computer. The scorch marks that rolled up along the ceiling and across the walls, smoke stained and twisted. Paint peeled and blistered, bubbling up from the extreme heat. In the center of the room was a container, shattered by an unseen force. Garrett’s footsteps crunched with the glass littered at the base, mindful of where he moved, he retracted a step and swept his eyes around the room. He froze when he noticed something that wasn’t in the photos. Near the wall was a control panel of sorts, the circuits and wires had been ripped and melted, scorched on the edges and cracked but there were two very obvious prongs. On the floor, just out of view in most of the debris was one of his EMP arrows. It was broken, the feathered tips burned down to the base and shattered into burnt splinters. The arrow head was all that gave away its true purpose.

He crouched down beside it, digging the arrow out of the ashes and broken glass, curling his fingers around the base. The world flooded with a blue wash of light, his head throbbed painfully as if he had been struck with a blunt object. He stumbled forward, dropping to his knees as pain seared through his limbs. The world twisted around him, pulling and pushing against his mind. Like a flood that raged against a dam and he was the losing side as it finally cracked.

_ "What are you hiding now Northcrest?" Garrett hummed, slipping into the room with the filched key card he slipped off of an unassuming doctor. He was rather proud of himself with that quick display, the pockets of the man's coat were too big and he worried he'd be seen while the man was filling out some report. He looked irritated which meant he was properly distracted by his own thoughts. The little huffed of amusement had left the thief's throat when he turned towards his prize. Whatever it was that the Mayor was up to, it had a lot riding on this one little gem. _

_ The room was neatly organized compared to the rest of the treatment rooms. He narrowly avoided getting caught when the doors opened to the hydrotherapy room but the errant screams of a patient muffled and gagged in the electroshock therapy room had hidden his hasty retreat. He felt a twinge of guilt in passing these people by. He'd seen the files, had read the reports and even recognized a few broken souls from Victoria's own court. They were beyond his aid now and he could only hope the man, Thomas, that had helped him sneak through the upper level of the building had gathered enough information to bring this to a screeching halt and crucify the men behind it. _

_ That was a headline he was eager to read in this week's papers. He stifled the amused sound that rose in his throat while he circled the room carefully. There was limited security which was to be expected in a place this old and outdated. There was signs of some renovation but not enough to really matter. His attention had settled on the containment unit resting before him. A soft hum reverberated throughout the room, a gentle lull of vibration that made his chest flutter lightly. The soft blue glow of the gem, something the doctors called the Primal, was settled inside a small plexiglas cradle. It was mounted for easy inspection and carefully handled through the glass with protective gloves. _

_ Garrett didn't carry the same wariness of the staff here and he didn't care much for their stuffy perceptions, all twisted up and conflicting with one another's. Whatever this was, it was important and was centered around whatever research they were doing with the patients. With it missing, he anticipated a slow crawl in the disappearances and maybe even a forced stop to this shit show altogether. At least he could only hope. If not, at least he gets a sizable payday at the end of the night and Thomas will still be there to drag these assholes through the coals. _

_ With that in mind, he set about disarming the most immediate security issue. His attempts at rewiring it had fallen flat when the circuitry arched at him and failed to produce the desired result. Annoyed, he tried the control panel but was met with the blaring alarm that made his hair rise on end and his nerves fray with urgency. When all else fails, he figured. Drawing his bow and aiming an EMP, he delivered the shot without fail and was greeted with the silence of the machine as its power source failed. The glass door shifted easily enough after that, offering a free pass to the gem. _

_ The door opened behind him, a startled noise easing through his chest as he reached out quickly. He heard a shouted protest, as his free hand worked a flash bomb from his belt and hurled it behind himself. The room was ablaze with bright light, screams heralded at his back as his fingers curled around the stone. A current of electricity shot down the length of his arm, jolting through his body and cramping every muscle in a painful burst of tension. He screamed, blue light exploding between the tight grasp of his fingers. A heavy weight of static settled in the air like a building storm until the room could no longer hold its fury. _

_ A high pitch whistling pierced his ears, searing pain formed in his eyes, digging in like claws and tearing at his skin. His hand grasped the side of his face, pulling and searching for the source of his injury but the light only grew until the whole room shook with a burst of flame and smoke. His body was thrown back in the pulse, the wall meeting him in a rush of movement as smoke billowed out around him, filling his lungs with heat and blinding him with the clouds of grey. He stumbled forward, his feet slipping on the glass as he ran, brushing past hands that grappled for him, blindly searching and snagging at his cloak. He wiggled free, twisting out of their grip and running. _

_ He couldn't see where he was going or what was ahead but he ran and ran until his legs burned and his body lagged behind his racing frantic thoughts. He ran until he found shadows and safety, tucking himself away only to be scoured out by voices calling after him. The harsh bite of commands and the screams of people in pain. The distorted echoes of his own ragged breathing was lost to him. _

Garrett blinked through the haze of light that clogged his vision. Felt the bitter burn of bile working it's way up his throat but this time he didn't deny it. He twisted on the floor, trembling hands hooking his masked down as he emptied the contents of his stomach into the corner. The cold air prickling at his skin, sweat beading along his neck and clinging to the thin short he wore beneath his leathers. It twisted uncomfortably with his movements but it was only a mild discomfort and not one he was unaccustomed to.

"You alright?" The voice caused him to jump, his head whipping around with alarm until his eyes fell on the familiar form of Thomas, crouched in the opposite corner and watching him with a peculiar tilt of his head. It disturbed Garrett at how accustomed he was becoming to the lack of facial expressions. Garrett's eyes settled on a large leather satchel that rested at the man's side. He didn't recall him carrying it before and his confusion was made known before he even spoke.

"You passed out. I took a look around while you were down and found some more evidence." He patted the satchel at his side thoughtfully.

Garrett found he couldn't really hate the man for that. He glanced around and noticed they were no longer in the scorched room. Instead they were tucked away inside another room, not quite a treatment room. He wasn't really sure what it was exactly. There were metal grates in the center of the floor and the soft lap of water down below met his ears. The cool draft of fresh air was a telltale sign that whatever supplied the water also led outside. The room was mostly empty. The concrete interior outlining the grates hinted at machinery, the rusted shadows of large metal shapes that once occupied the space, now clearly absent. He wondered if maybe it was once a pump room. Giving it a closer look, he noticed scratches in the grates, white lashes in the metal consistent with a tool. He pulled the claw from his belt and gave it a brief inspection. 

"What are you doing?" Thomas shifted where he was sitting, pushing himself into a crouch. His attention fixed firmly on the thief with a hint of wariness in his tone. Garrett dismissed it and hooked the claw in the metal, prying it up. It took a bit of effort, rust and grime had accumulated over time, requiring more muscle in getting leverage but he was rewarded with the loud bang of freedom. He examined the scratch marks and was reminded of a nightmare he had. Of staring up through metal grates with lights flickering above and the cold of water swirling around below, pulling him under. Knowing now, that it wasn't a nightmare but a memory, was a relief.

"I came through here last time." He spoke up. "I stole whatever it was that was in that room and it caused the explosion somehow. I think…" He stopped, looking down at the water that lapped at the sides. It was dark and ominous. The cold curled up like beckoning tendrils coaxing him to a frozen grave. "I escaped and hid somewhere in the building but they caught me. I escaped again and made my way here." He pointed at the white markings on the grate. The old faint scratches. Thomas had moved now, settling in a crouch beside Garrett's shoulder as he inspected it. 

"I'm pretty sure this leads to the river somehow."

There was a derisive snort from Thomas. "There's no way you'd survive that. There is a waterflow that leads beneath the building but unless you have equipment for the job, you'll drown."

"That's actually what happened." Garrett winced, acknowledging his own reckless blunder. "I think I did drown, or almost did. The river spit me out on the bank nearby and one of the Queen's rats found me."

"You're lucky to be alive." 

"Tell me about it." Garrett sighed, giving the water one last wary look before closing the grate completely again. Instead, turning his attention to a more worthwhile distraction. "What did you find?"

"Just that Northcrest has a hand in whatever pet project was going on here. After your intervention, he ordered the bridge destroyed to keep people from investigating the island and ensure none of the surviving patients make it to the city." Thomas explained. It made sense enough to Garrett, between what his own memories recalled now that he could piece it all together. Without the bridge, trying to navigate the treacherous waters without a proper craft was deadly. The quick currents could easily drown any unfortunate soul and he'd been incredibly lucky to survive the way he did.

"Of course nothing too concrete but it's a start." Thomas sighed. Garrett couldn't blame his lack of enthusiasm. Most of the documents left behind were damaged by moisture and exposure, the ink smeared and what was legible could be mistaken for the ravings of a mad man. The contents of the documents looked like props for some weird psychological horror movie. Trying to get anyone that would give a shit and risk their neck to run the information into the media would be hard as is. Trying to prevent Northcrest from retaliating and shoving it all under the rug was even harder. He didn't envy Thomas and his intentions one bit. Garrett had enough on his plate as is.

Once they were ready, feeling as though they've searched every available inch of the building and with exhaustion wearing them thin, they started their way out. But not before commandeering a few cans of fuel from the old generator room. A few choice placements and a homemade molotov and they had a crackling fire roaring from the pits of the building. It was an agreement between the two, to ensure nobody would abuse the location again, purging it of the sickness that had become the unfortunate occupants and hiding what remained of the primary's presence. Garrett knew the risks of leaving the place as is, feared curious passersby would fall victim to Moira's secrets. It was a rather spectacular display really, somewhat over the top for his tastes but he delighted in being the one to chuck the molotov that started it all. A sick satisfaction curling in his stomach and filling it with a warmth that betrayed the cold chill ghosting across his skin.

They left together, Garrett lingered on the shoreline near the entrance, further down a ways from where he entered the gates and discovered Thomas' mode of transportation made Basso's look like luxury. It was a spindly non-descript kayak made of darker colors to fade into the shadows and hidden from view. Thomas had covered it carefully in brush further up the shore making it near invisible if you didn't know to look for it. It was flimsy and just watching the man settle into it and the way it swayed made Garrett's chest tight and panic curl into his lungs. He'd take the row boat any day now. 

He gave the man a brisk shove off into the water, watching his figure illuminated by the fire light dancing at their backs. Smoke billowed up in large plumes and Basso's voice called frantically from down the shore. The thief turned briskly and raced along the edges to meet up with the panicked fence. The crushing hug that greeted him was accompanied by a scolding swat to the side of the head. Garrett winced, gave Basso a tired reassuring smile before letting himself be ushered into the boat. He quickly donned his life vest and hunkered into the warmth of a spare blanket, letting the soft push and pull of the water lull him on the return to the city shoreline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was not how i had planned this chapter to go but things change often enough as is. Garrett still hates killing but he does recognize the logic behind Thomas' actions and won't stop the man. 
> 
> Also, what happens when two sneaky little shits get together? Apparently fire and explosions. Nobody leave these two alone together, please. They will bring down the whole city if left unsupervised.
> 
> Garrett finally has his answers for what happened and he's content to leave it at that for now. But is the universe ever really that kind? Am I? 
> 
> Answer: NOPE!!!! Sorry Garrett but you're not getting off that easily.


	19. Crooked Paws Chasing Tails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corvo runs into an old problem and Garrett is faced with a new one.

After the events at Moira, Garrett had no problem hanging up his gear and settling in for a break. Basso was more than eager to encourage, storing any mention of jobs for when Garrett was ready to jump back into the saddle, and focused more on dragging the thief around with him on his free days. Garrett didn’t mind it one bit, spending his afternoons sitting with Basso while he worked at home and their evenings hanging out at The Cripple Burrick Pub. Basso settled into their usual booth, watching bowling on one of the large flat screens on the wall nearest while Garrett cut his way through one batch of loaded bacon cheese waffle fries after another while Basso drank himself stupid. The hearty laughter of patrons was a warm and welcoming sight, Basso’s red flushed face as he balked and cursed good naturedly, occasionally doling out a game of cards on the table in between lulls on the television. They played, Garrett gorged himself and Basso was barely able to stand by the night’s end. 

Which was exactly where Garrett came in, helping the man to his car while the thief dug his own set of keys out and drove the old fence back home. It took longer to get Basso’s lumbering form up the stairs to his apartment than it did for Garrett to help him get out of his jacket and boots and push him into bed. Garrett left a bottle of aspirin on the bedside table with a bottle of water from the fridge then retreated to the living room where he caught up on some of Basso’s DVR. 

By time Basso woke, he was stretched out across the couch cushions, legs partially tucked and a box of saltines in his lap, Jenivere’s bobbing head stealing bits from the end of his cracker as the early rays of morning light peeked through the windows. The fence shuffled through his routine, eyeing the pair as if expecting some sort of hidden mischief to be brewing. His attention only drifting briefly when he discovered the teddy bear Garrett had gotten him had been moved, yet again. The thief had gotten in the habit of hiding it around the apartment with increasing frequency for Basso to find, the little smiles that twisted his lips were the only admittance he would pull from him when asked about it. Garrett got a kick out of putting it in steadily more outrageous places, such as the bathroom towel rack, the kitchen cabinets, inside the microwave at one point and now it was sitting on top of the bathroom toilet with arms spread wide in a silent request for a hug. 

He couldn’t be mad of course. The small smiles and huffy laughter that left his chest amused him and he knew Garrett noticed. He would return it to the nightstand beside his bed and continue on with his day. A quick shower, some warm breakfast courtesy of Garrett’s skilled hands, and he returned to his office to carry on with his work. It was completely off the books of course, just a few jobs for Victoria and some last minute reports before the pair could return to their usual antics.

  


* * *

  
  


Corvo was beyond tired when the call came through in the early hours of morning. It was barely even grey outside, the sun had yet to crest over the city scape as he dragged himself to his truck and made his way directly to the scene. Lights flickered in the front grill and on his dash alerting to his hidden status as authority. It wasn’t as prominent as his cruiser but it came in handy in a pinch. He didn’t even have time to stop for coffee on the way as they made for the Dayport proper. A long drive along the hillsides where large mansions overlooked the rest of the city harboring the wealthier upper middle class. 

The house in question was owned by a businessman, an accountant for overseas firms that was away for a business trip. The victim, come to find out, was an unfortunate security guard. The cause of death was pretty obvious by the ragdoll angle of his head, twisted and bruised by force of strangulation. The dark marks that spread around the man’s throat were a stark contrast to the fading color that leached out of his stiff form. Rigor mortis had already set in hinting that it’d been a few hours since death.

Daud had greeted Corvo with an equally tired expression but unlike Corvo, Daud was already halfway through nursing his coffee cup. Presumably brought from home. It made Corvo wonder where exactly the man lived or if he’d even slept yet if he had enough time to brew that and still beat Corvo to the scene.

"What do we have?" He asked, closing the distance between them with his hands stuffed into the front pockets of his jacket. It was cold out, frost clinging to the grass and the whispering nip of cold air clinging to his neck. Daud looked just as bundled up, red jacket pulled taut over his shoulders as he walked Corvo up the steps leading into the manor. There was the same scratch marks on the door as they'd come to expect but these were sloppy. Like stiff hands struggling to work the picks in the proper places, even missing the lock entirely and scraping the knob. The power to the home had been shut off using a similar tool as they'd come to expect.

Daud had already helped case the place extensively before Corvo' arrival and they were waiting on a proper CSI unit to arrive and gather any other samples or potential evidence. They took photographs of the marks and examined anything else that seemed off. Daud's weary expression turned downright sour when the first dark vehicle rolled into the driveway. A quick glance towards the man stepping out of the driver's side caused a stir of annoyance to swell in Corvo's chest. Of course, he'd expect nothing less as more vehicles pulled up to the curb with the same pompous air. 

The crime scene turned into a homicide which meant more hands grasping at the pie. Corvo wasn't against a little help but work between separate units never went well when everyone was clamoring for the same amount of recognition. Politics had never been Corvo's strong suit but he was also displeased with the addition of Detective Havelock. Former man of the Navy, now a steady pain in Corvo's ass. He's encountered the man before on other cases but none of them saw Corvo as leading a unit on the incident.

Back then it was easy to slip into background noise and take orders as they come. But now, Havelock walked with all the air of a man that demanded to be explicitly in charge. His dark hair damp and slicked back, a nice dark blue silk shirt and lighter toned tie hung down. A dark blue jacket and black slacks completed the look of a man who took his sweet ass time. Both Corvo and Daud looked bed rumpled and weary. The former barely had enough time to run a comb through his hair as he buttoned up his shirt and rushed out the door. He was lucky he even remembered to tie his boots before he tripped on them. Such was the way with higher ranks, the dead would stay dead and a scene would still be there when they got there. But that just meant more opportunities for the press to weasel their way in and start blasting the story all over the city. They already chased off one nosey reporter trying to skim the yellow tape at the gates but the officers warned them off with threats of arrest for invading a crime scene.

"We'll take it from here gentlemen." Havelock's rough voice crackled in the quiet. Corvo managed to keep his expression neutral even at the dismissive wave he earned from the man. 

"Not to burst your bubble detective, but this is still our scene and is related to our case." Corvo objected with all the ease of a man sick of the bullshit already. He was tired and just wanted to go home. He barely managed to call the babysitter to come and stay with Emily. Callista, the sweet girl, was a life saver even at the early hours of morning. She was more than welcome to use the guest bedroom upstairs in his absence and had done so on similar occasions. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and massaging up towards his eyes as Havelock's gravely voice reminded him how little he cared before coffee.

"This crime scene is our jurisdiction now." The man pressed firmly. Corvo opened his mouth to argue but Daud's gentle elbow to his side ushered him to silence. He gave a disgruntled sound and followed his partner away from the smug smile spreading on Havelock's face. It was hard to ignore the urge to whirl around and hit him. It wasn't necessarily normal for Corvo to be so impulsive but stress and lack of sleep was getting the better of him. His patience was rapidly wearing thin, something Daud seemed to notice.

They lingered by Corvo's truck, still easily within view of the scene as Havelock spread his men out over it in calculated sweeps presumably looking for something that they had missed. Daud set his coffee cup on Corvo's hood, pausing to double check with the man if it was alright. Corvo nodded silently and observed as he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket, pausing to look at them a bit confused.

"What's wrong?" Corvo prompted, folding his arms over his chest and leaned his hip against the bumper.

Daud shook his head dismissively as he opened the new pack and pulled a cigarette free, resting it between his lips while he lit it. "Thought I was on my last one." He mumbled, drawing in a breath as the tip flared orange in the faint light and he breathed out a plume of grey. "Must be my roommate left a new one for me."

"Your roommate do that often?" Corvo settled back, shifting his feet until he was comfortably propped against the hood. His ankles crossed as dark hazelnut eyes shifted from the wandering officers on scene back to Daud's relaxed expression. 

"Not usually. Must've noticed I was running low." He curled his fingers around the cigarette and drew it away, blowing a careful pillar straight up and away from Corvo. He flicked the ash off the tip before returning it back to his lips.

"You've been smoking like a chimney lately." 

"This case is all over the place." Daud admitted. Stress was a common enough problem in this line of work. Especially when lives were on the line. This case was somehow different though and both of them knew that.

"You don't think it was our thief." It came after a long stretch of silence. A heavy sigh from Corvo's lips. Daud confirmed the suspicion with a shake of the head.

"How tall do you think our victim was?"

"Hm, close to six foot at least. Especially with those boots on."

Daud nodded. "How tall do you estimate our thief is?"

Corvo had to think on that one. The subject was small, that was for sure. Most of the men were taking bets already on rather the thief is male or female, and how long Harlan will keep up the hunt before he's forced into early retirement or insanity. It was hard to say for sure on their height, but Harlan had a pretty rough estimate and they built on that. "Maybe five foot four, or five foot five."

Daud gave another nod, an approval towards the estimation. "Nobody that small could take down a man that large in that manner. The amount of effort alone to successfully break a man's neck would be enough to call it suspicious, let alone the height difference. Our thief would never be able to reach him and pull enough leverage to carry that out."

Corvo could definitely agree with that observation. There were other hints as well that made him question the scene in its entirely, the death being one of them. "In the past our thief never killed or maimed a guard, even when caught. There was no sign of struggle in there. If forensics is correct on this, the guard may have never even noticed his attacker. That goes against the thief's MO."

Daud nodded again in agreement, puffing a large plume of smoke out of his nostrils.

“So chances are we’re looking at a really sloppy copycat.” Corvo finished what Daud left unspoken between them. Daud flicked his cigarette, letting the ash drift down to the ground and heaved a cloud of grey from his lungs. He dismissed it with a wave of his hand, dropping the butt to the ground where he stomped it out with the toe of his boot. 

“But why would someone want to copy our thief and what is so important in this place to even try?” Daud offered up, turning to retrieve his coffee from the hood and drink down, washing away the taste of tobacco. 

“Whatever it is, we have to wait for the Detective and his men to stop trampling the crime scene.” Corvo huffed impatiently, ignoring the cold that seeped into his shoulders and nipped at his hip from the bumper. His eyes narrowed on Havelock as he all but pranced across the lawn, directing men with wild hand gestures and a firm booming tone that would wake the neighbors and only draw more unnecessary attention to the incident. “It’s gonna be a long day. I can already tell.”

Daud let out a strangled noise that resembled a laugh. His amusement was but a flicker in his grey eyes as he settled back against the hood. “You might have enough time to go get that coffee you wanted at this rate.”

“Don’t tempt me.” Corvo grumbled. “Did your roommate make that for you?” He gestured at Daud’s cup.

He shrugged dismissively. “He works nights so the pot was on and brewing when I got up.”

“Lucky you.” 

Daud snorted at that, his lips curling into a smile that Corvo couldn’t help but notice. 

* * *

  


It was late evening by time Corvo caught a glimpse of their esteemed Lieutenant. The man had been absent for a good majority of the day which was strange enough on its own. Even more so when it came to a murder of all things. The man entered in a surprisingly pleasant mood, dismissing any questioning looks as he muttered about being caught up in a meeting with the Mayor. The man was apparently adamant that this thief be put to a stop now that blood was shed. Which wasn’t anything new. Corvo guessed the upper class were panicking with the gossip bursting around town. All of the man’s neighbors were out in full force being a nosy as possible and bickering about the chances that could have been one of them. Completely ignoring the fact that a man, no matter his societal status, was dead. 

It only burned Corvo’s rage further at that but his patience had been somewhat bridled by the stop at the cafe on the way to the station. Daud gave him enough of an excuse to get himself something on the way back, knowing it would help whatever foul mood Corvo was entrenched in.

Harlan never called for a meeting. Never once sat down to talk to the rest of the task force. More than once, he’d glimpsed Havelock floating in the hallways outside of Harlan’s office and caught the shadows of both men entering to talk for a very long time. By time Havelock left, his shift was almost over and Harlan looked like the cat that caught the canary. It was off putting to say the least. 

He was glad to know, at least when a message had been shot to his email, that Daud had noticed the strange behavior of their superior. They talked discreetly back and forth, shooting emails to and fro, images attached from the crime scene that Daud had taken and compared them himself to previous incidences in their files. Not once had any of them been so sloppy before. Even in the earliest stages of their thief’s career all those years ago, his methods were still clean and precise.

When their shift ended, Corvo found himself leaving with an odd otherworldly itch he couldn’t quite scratch and it honestly rankled him to think about it. Even more so when the radio was absent of music, the local station discussing the strange fire that broke out at Moira Asylum. With the heavy fog a few nights ago, few had noticed the island ablaze until the flames had all but burned the place into the basement. There was little concern for it spreading and fire crews were forced to go by boat to search the wreckage in the aftermath. That turned out to be fruitless when the entire structure collapsed in on itself and filled the entirety of what was assumed to be the basement, flooded by the river water pushing through the drainage system. Nobody knew what caused it and few were determined to really investigate the debris, settling on the unspoken speculation that ghosts had done it with all the eerie stories surrounding the island itself. 

On top of that, the protests were building, further building tension in the public eye. This Orion person was determined and his flock of activists were steadily growing to ridiculous proportions. A good amount of officers were moved from regular patrols to lining up on the streets where the protests were to ensure no fights or riots started. The whole city was quickly going to hell and Corvo wasn’t prepared for the backlash when the tension finally did break. Whatever it was, if it was anything like Dunwall, it wouldn’t be pretty. 

Corvo was more than happy to be home, slinging his arms around Emily as he pressed a kiss into her hair and let her chatter his ear off on all the things she did with Callista that day. Apparently they took a trip to the local Zoo and she had a myriad of pictures to show him. So he made them both a snack, settled onto the couch with a heavy blanket to wrap around them and he let her snag his attention for the next hour, showing him each and every photograph with an in depth story behind each one.

* * *

Garrett had spent most of his day lounging on Basso’s couch while the man was out and about doing his usual business dealings. He’d had an emergency meeting of some kind to handle, leaving Garrett to his own devices. Which involved throwing popcorn up into the air and watching Jenivere swoop after it. A few times she had successfully caught the treat and nibbled on it where she perched, pulling it apart before he tossed another up for her. She warbled pleasantly at him, chasing after every morsel. Garrett even video taped a few of the attempts, finally catching a successful one and saving it for Basso to watch later.

He dozed on and off, Jenivere fluctuated from sitting on his shoulder tucked against his neck to perching atop one of her climbing posts and staring out the window at the city expanse while the sun inched across the sky. She squawked an alarm when Basso came home, drawing Garrett from his sleep. The thief was bleary eyed, rubbing at his face as he quietly greeted his guardian. Basso held up his free hand not carrying his keys, showing the plastic bag of take-out he picked up on the way home and ushered Garrett to the kitchen table. 

“I figured you probably hadn’t eaten nothin substantial yet.” Basso called, hanging his keys and coat up on their respective hooks. His hat joining it as well. Garrett snagged the bags and started pulling out the styrofoam boxes and plastic containers, digging out plates for them both. 

“Been catching up on my beauty sleep.” Garrett answered, licking cheese sauce from his thumb where it had smeared upon opening one of the plastic bowls. The steam rose up to meet him, urging his stomach back to life. 

Basso paused, looked sternly at Garrett, green eyes narrowing with a studious sort of scrutiny before he shook his head. “Looks like ya need a lot more.” 

Garrett scowled, reaching across the counter to deliver a playful swat at Basso’s shoulder. The older man snickered in self-satisfied delight, ducking a second strike as he moved their chairs around. He moved towards the coffee table next to the couch and changed the channels from whatever reruns Garrett had been sleeping through to the news channel. He plopped down at the table where Garrett had moved their plates and flitted back to the fridge to find their drinks. He turned back towards the table when he noticed Basso’s eyes locked on the t.v. His shoulders stiff and jaw clenched tightly. 

Garrett followed his gaze and felt his heart stop when he honed into the news report. On the screen was Harlan’s smug face announcing some tidbit of important information. Garrett couldn’t necessarily hear what was being said. Instead his eyes focused on the bright white bold headlines that ripped through his chest. The two bottles in his grasp hit the floor with a heavy thunk but Garrett couldn’t be bothered to care. The world folded in jaggedly around his vision, the thrum of his heart was a painful force beating against his ribcage. 

** _Museum theft suspect connected to Dayport Murder._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am gonna take a slight break from Hydrophobia to focus on my other most recent fic Poor Man's Poison. Which if you haven't read it yet, is about Garrett being cursed by a relic and turned into a half bird creature while Corvo tries to save him.
> 
> I have a handful of other small projects I wanted to work on as well which means writing for Hydrophobia will slow down but not stop. I will be back to it soon!
> 
> Thank you for all the wonderful comments so far! I really appreciate it all! It has been a lot of fun writing this piece so far and I am adore everyone who has stuck with me through it! Thank you so much!


End file.
